


This delicate place

by ljummen (Vendelin)



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Bedsharing, Burn scar, Career Ending Injuries, Depression, Erectile Dysfunction, Fingering, Firefighter!Geno, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Illness, Not Hockey Players (Hockey RPF), Online Friendship, Online Romance, Retired!Sid, Self Care, Sex complications, Soft Hockey Boys, Strangers to Lovers, Visiting Canada, YouTuber!Geno, burn injury, post-retirement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-04-12 10:08:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 32,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19129882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vendelin/pseuds/ljummen
Summary: “Are you?” Taylor asks unexpectedly.“Am I what?” Looking up from the stove, Sid finds her watching him with an odd look on her face.“Happy.”It should be an easy question to answer.Sid has escaped back to Canada after a career ending injury. It doesn’t dawn on him exactly how much early retirement has affected him, until Taylor introduces him to a YouTube channel where a firefighter talks about his own struggles with his mental health.





	This delicate place

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vaguelyfamiliar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaguelyfamiliar/gifts).



> I was really nervous writing this fic for you. I'm not at all sure that this is at all anything you wanted, but I hope it's to your taste. 
> 
> I PROMISE that this fic is a lot softer and happier than the tags imply. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who's cheered me on, and especially GreyMichaela - without you this fic wouldn't be finished. I also want to thank 71tenseventeen and Devisama for your endless support. <3 
> 
> My knowledge of firefighters and their job is basically what I learned from watching too many YouTube-videos. I'm also not a professional therapist, so I've only used my own experience with being in therapy for this fic.

It’s raining outside. Sid listens to the succinct sound of the drops against his bedroom windows. It’s 4:37 a.m. and he can’t go back to sleep. The room is dark, cloaked in October shadows, and other than the rain, his own breathing is the only sound in the room.

This isn’t the first time he’s woken before his alarm goes off. It’s happened more regularly since he came back to Canada, but it started shortly after he was forced to retire. Before then, he could sleep anywhere at any time.

Sighing, he stares at the ceiling for another three breaths, and then rolls over on his side, squeezing his eyes shut. He has a little over two hours before he needs to get up to start his workout. He _has_ to sleep.

+    +    +

Sid is eating lunch at the kitchen table, accompanied by the rain that’s still falling outside, albeit with less intensity now, when his phone buzzes with an incoming text. Even the vibration is loud in the silence.

He hesitates for a second before flipping it over, display up, and swipes at the screen. _Taylor_. Letting out of breath, Sid opens his phone and ignores the angry, red dot over his messaging icon that says _59_ , as he taps to open her message.

**> Coming over for dinner. Boot up your computer. **

**< OK**

This would be a good time to reply to some of the awaiting messages while he’s at it. But what would he say? Especially to the ones that have been waiting for months by now. There are no excuses that he can make up for replying so late. They’ve probably forgotten all about messaging him by now anyway.

Rolling his shoulders to ease the sudden tightness over his ribcage, he locks his phone again and flips it back over. Maybe he should contact a doctor. Sometimes his chest pulls so tight that he can barely breathe for a while, and that can’t be good. On the other hand, he’s fine when he works out, so it’s probably just a muscular attachment acting up.

He goes through his day the same way he always does and avoids looking at Sam’s leash where it’s hanging on its hook right inside the door. It’s late in the afternoon when he calls it a day. Taylor’s red sedan pulls up as he makes his way from the dock. The water used to be his place to calm down, but lately he’s spent hours on the dock with an underlying sense of dread, and it has his brain spinning trying to figure out why his body reacts the way it does.

Taylor looks good; radiating happiness and life joy in a way Sid has never quite gotten the hang of, as she climbs out of the car. Her beige trench coat is unbuttoned, but she hugs it tighter to her body as she waits for him to get closer. She’s home for Thanksgiving from college, where she’s working on her master’s degree in marketing and digital communication.

“Hey,” she says when he’s close enough and she searches his face, before she reaches out on hugs him hard. “How are you?”

“I’m good,” Sid replies on reflex.

She pulls back and looks at him in silence, before nodding to herself. “Okay. Come on, let’s go inside. It’s _so_ cold.”

“It’s not so bad,” Sid protests. “What would you like for dinner?”

“Whatever you’ve planned is fine,” Taylor assures him. “Did you boot up your computer?”

Sid shakes his head as he lets her into the house, and then leaves his own shoes just inside the door, continuing to the kitchen, while she gets out of her coat. “You can do that while I make dinner.”

When no reply comes, he pops his head back in the hallway, fully expecting her to be immersed in something on her phone again. Instead, he finds her holding Sam’s leash in both hands, stroking the leather gently.

“Isn’t it time to put this away?” she asks him and her eyes are glassy when she looks up.

“No.” He grabs the leash from her hands and puts it back on the hook where it’s supposed to be, and goes back in the kitchen. “Don’t touch it.”

“Sid,” Taylor says, her voice soft. “She’s not—”

“Is salmon okay?” Sid interrupts her and sticks his head in the fridge. The cool air in there soothes the sudden prickling of his scalp.

She sighs loud enough for him to hear through the wall. “Salmon sounds great. Do you want me to set the table?”

“Thanks.”

While Sid starts on dinner, Taylor sets the table and tells him about her current assignments and how stressful it’s been so far this semester.

“One of my professors is a dick,” she tells him as she comes back with his laptop and sits down at the kitchen table. “We have three midterms in one course just because he decided that his subject is more important than everything else.”

Sid hums and stirs the lemon sauce. His laptop lets out its usual booting up sound behind him and he can hear Taylor clatter away on the keys. She’s somehow learned to type without looking at the keyboard and she’s so fast, too.

“It seems like he’s forgotten that we have a whole bunch of other courses and, I don’t know, a need for sleep.”

“Are the other professors better?” Sid asks.

Taylor mutters something under her breath, probably directed to the computer, before she replies. “Yeah, I have one that’s awesome. He even insists on us calling him by his first name.”

“That’s good.” Sid stares down at the sauce for a second too long. “I’m happy to hear that.”

“Are you?” Taylor asks unexpectedly.

“Am I what?” Looking up from the stove, Sid finds her watching him with an odd look on her face.

“Happy.”

It should be an easy question to answer. He’s had a good career, he’s financially comfortable, he has friends and family that love him. “Sure.”

“It’s okay to say no,” Taylor says softly. “If you ever feel like you’re not happy, it’s okay to say that. You aren’t required to be happy, you know.”

“I have it good,” Sid says and his spine tingles in a way that he’s only recently experienced. His gaze falls on the computer in front of her. “What did you want to show me?”

“It’s something you’ll like,” she says and a smile spreads across her face. “But dinner first, because I’m starving.”

A while later, she stacks their dirty plates and grabs the laptop from the chair where it’s been waiting during their meal. “Hannah told me about this YouTube channel and I think you’ll like it.”

“I don’t really do YouTube.”

“That’s because you don’t know what’s _on_ YouTube, Sid.” She rolls her eyes and clicks a few times, before turning the laptop towards him. “This is a cool channel that started out as a reach out-project from a group of firefighters in New York. You know, to get in touch with the public a bit and become more approachable. Now it’s more or less just one of them doing vlogs and talking about stuff. I think you might want to watch when you have some free time.”

Sid is quite sure there are a myriad of underlying messages with that, but it’s still nice that she’s looked something up for him.

“I don’t have a lot of free time.”

She opens her mouth, closes it again and finally opens it once more as she says: “But _if_.”

“Alright.” Sid glances at the screen. There are a number of images there of a guy sitting close to the camera, and when Taylor moves the cursor over them, they move for a few seconds. “I guess I could take a look.”

“You know—” she begins and trails off momentarily. “Just give it a shot, okay? You wanted to be a firefighter once, remember? It’s pretty cool insight into their work.”

They spend the evening watching the latest season of Game of Thrones. She has insisted on rewatching before the premiere of the final season, and well, Sid likes having her here and he’s always enjoyed Game of Thrones.

When she leaves to head home to their parents, Sid is left feeling a bit lost in the kitchen. On one hand, he wishes she would stay longer, on the other it’s as though he can breathe a little easier again.

It takes three days before he actually watches any of the videos on that YouTube channel Taylor found for him. It’s 3:04 a.m. and Sid has been trying to fall back asleep for over an hour, but without success. Instead his heart is beating fast, as though he’s just finished a particularly gruesome interval training session. There’s definitely something not right with him. Maybe he should call Taylor? Or his parents?

Sid grabs his phone, but then he hesitates. His heart has been racing for over an hour now, and he isn’t dead yet, so it’s probably nothing lethal. He can call them in the morning instead. There’s no need to scare them.

Just as he’s about to scroll through the news app on his phone, he remembers the YouTube channel Taylor wanted him to watch when she was here. Well, it’s not like he has anything better to do right now, and she’s right, he used to say that he would be a firefighter if he wasn’t playing hockey.

After getting his computer and grabbing a glass of water, Sid rubs his chest and climbs back into bed. With a bit of luck, the YouTube channel is uninteresting enough to make him sleepy again.

The title of the video that Taylor picked for him is _A day in the life_. He could choose another one, but why not? She probably decided on this one for a reason, and it seems general enough.

Sid lowers the volume before pressing play. The video starts out at the fire hall— _firehouse_ , Sid learns soon enough—with one of the firefighters explaining that they go over the trucks and the equipment at the beginning of the day to make sure everything works as it should. One guy mops the floor and another complains about having to clean the bathroom. It’s somewhat interesting, and he’s loosely paying attention whenever his heart isn’t trying to escape his body, until the video shows two of the firefighters going grocery shopping.

 _“We’re making food for everyone,”_ one of them says and smiles at the camera, as he’s loading tomatoes and bread into the cart. _“We’re a team, so we have different duties during the days. Two days at work, four days off. You get pretty close to these idiots.”_

Sid almost smiles. He knows that feeling well. They didn’t exactly have duties on the team in the same sense as these guys, but he most definitely got to know them in a way that most people don’t know their coworkers.

Then the camera switches focus to another guy. He looks familiar, so he must’ve been in the background of some of the other videos. He’s tall, with brown hair and sleepy eyes. His grin is a bit goofy when he points to the cheese section in the grocery store.

 _“We call this ladder cheese,”_ he says and holds up a normal-looking type of cheese, before he puts it down again and holds up another. _“This rescue cheese, is more fresh, taste better. Best cheese. We put love in cheese.”_

Sid snorts. The guy has an accent that reminds him distantly of Ovechkin, so maybe he’s from Russia. The first guy calls him _Geno_ a little later in the video, and Geno refers to the first guy as _Lazy_. The other guys seems to call him Nealer, so Sid figures they’re close enough friends to be assholes to each other. He knows what that’s like.

The video is just over ten minutes, but Sid lies down on his side, and lets YouTube play the next one. It seems to be late evening, or maybe even night, but one of the guys that says his name is Erik (but the other guys call him Guddy) goes through all the equipment in the truck. Sid had no idea the truck’s own water supply runs out in roughly two-three minutes. He only half-listens, but it’s a nice distraction.

He perks up a little when Geno shows up again. He looks tired, barely-awake on a chair as he shovels food into his mouth. His hair is wet as though he’s just showered, or maybe he’s sweaty?

 _“Geno here has just come back from a rescue. You okay, dude?”_  Another guy asks. He’s been on screen in this video before, but Sid can’t remember his name. His blond hair is a little on the long side, and he looks short next to Guddy by the kitchen counter.

 _“Fine,”_ Geno says, but it seems mostly automatic. _“Need sleep.”_

Sid watches him for a moment, even when he’s just in the background of some other guy talking, still cramming as much food as he can into his mouth and emptying three water bottles in under two minutes.

Unlike Geno, Sid hasn’t exactly rescued anyone from a burning building, but Sid feels as drained as Geno looks in the video. He has no reason to. If anything, he has all the time in the world now to sleep and relax. But somehow he’s exhausted. Worn out to the bones.

There’s no sign of Geno in the next video, or the one after that. The other guys remind Sid so much of being on a team. The chirping is the same, though instead of being about hockey theirs is related to their own profession. Still, something small breaks inside of him as he watches their banter.

Closing the lid to his laptop, Sid gets out of bed. He needs to go outside for a bit to breathe, or do something, _anything_. In the end, he runs. For someone who hates running, he goes too fast and for too long, even though it’s getting cold and the ground crunches under his feet from the morning frost. When he’s back outside his house, his chest burns and is tight for a very tangible reason now and that makes it all a bit easier. The sun has risen over the almost-bare trees and, well, it’s basically time for breakfast anyway. There’s no reason for him to go back to bed.

He holds off the YouTube channel for a few days until he wakes up one night, unable to breathe properly. Gasping for breath, Sid kicks the duvet off, trying to get rid of the concrete weight on his ribcage, but it stays put. His heart is hammering behind his ribs and he curls up on his side, desperately trying to get enough air.

 _He’s doing to die_.

It might be forever, or maybe just a couple of minutes, Sid has no idea, but slowly the pressure on his chest eases and for every breath he can breathe a little easier again. The black spots fade from his vision, and his heart stays too fast and too forceful, but at least it doesn’t feel as though it’s going to break him apart.

 _Fuck_. He needs to call his doctor in the morning.

He should take a shower to get rid of the cold sweat, but that feels like a huge risk to take when his legs are shaking. His gaze falls on his laptop on top of his dresser. It’s been there since he watched those YouTube videos.

There’s no way he can go back to sleep now, so watching a couple more can’t hurt. The first few are uninteresting. He fast forwards through two, unsure of what he’s looking for. He clicks through the third one, but nothing catches his interest there, either. Just as he’s about to give up, clicking through the fourth one, two minutes from the end of the video, one guy says:

_“Hey Geno, nice to see you, man.”_

There, on the video, is the funny cheese-guy with the Russian accent. His face looks bruised, and he has his left arm in a sling.

 _“Not so nice see your ugly face, Burnsie,”_ Geno replies and, when Burnsie laughs, he smiles slightly, even though it looks like it hurts.

Sid hasn’t seen Geno in any of the other videos he went through tonight, and by the looks of Geno and the comment from Burnsie, maybe he hasn’t been at work. He looks like he’s been hurt.

The next five videos show very little of Geno, though Sid sometimes catches him in the background and he’s around when the other guys eat. He’s often quiet those times, which doesn’t at all match Sid’s impression of him from the first videos.

He falls asleep when Guddy, and another really big guy they call Jamie, compete in getting dressed the fastest.

The next day, his incident feels so far away, like it almost didn’t happen. He was probably mostly asleep still, which made it feel way worse than it was. It might’ve been half a dream, honestly. He’ll call if it happens again.

He sticks to his routine, but in the evening, he grabs his laptop again. This time, he opens the page of the channel instead of browsing videos from the sidebar, and _oh_ , there are a lot of videos uploaded.

A recent video shows Geno’s face, without bruises, and the title says: _Q &A with Geno_. He hesitates for only a second before he clicks on it.

The intro is Geno preparing a coffee and pouring it into a mug that says: **I hate being sexy, but I’m a firefighter so I can’t help it.** Sid snorts and settles back against the couch cushions, as Geno sits down on a white chair in front of the camera and smiles.

 _“Hi guys. Is time I answer all questions from you. Well, not all questions, because you ask so many, but most questions.”_ He sips his coffee and grimaces. _“Worst part with this work is we have no sugar or cream for coffee.”_

He answers basic questions about his job, and how he’s on a rescue company, and what that means more exactly. It sounds demanding to Sid, having to get people out of buildings constantly, risking his own life on a daily basis.

_“I have question from Karen34029843_ _—_ _why so many numbers Karen? You make life so hard for me_ _—_ _she ask how I come back to work from accident two year ago and if I still have trouble.”_

Sid sits up straighter. An accident? Any accident he can think of, related to being a firefighter, sounds life threatening.

 _“You know my other videos and I’m talk about mental health a lot, because it’s very important topic for me.”_ Geno sips his coffee and diverts his gaze from the camera for a second. _“After accident I’m bad both with physical health, but also mental health. You guys know, I talk about anxiety and panic attack a lot, and how I’m depressed for long time. For me it was slow way back, but I need that, you know? I have demanding job, and I love it, but I need for be strong both here_ _—_ _”_ he taps his temple _“_ _—_ _and my body. I have good doctors, but I also see therapist. I’m still see therapist maybe twice every year for check-up. Is like lifeline for me, you know? I make sure I stay on track with my mental health. Is little bit like I use to have regular check up with doctor for my body even after I’m okay.”_

Sid watches him, tracks his face for any sign of unease, but Geno’s gaze is warm as he looks into the camera and—it feels like—right at Sid.

 _“You know, depression is sneaky. It not come overnight. For me it was like, I’m feel more and more helpless every day. Is like when you turn down lights in room slowly. Eyes adjust so you maybe not notice that is dark, until a lot later when everyone else see details and color you not see? And you think, maybe is something wrong with my eyes? Maybe I’m broken? You in same room as everyone else, but you only see grey.”_ He shrugs. _“Maybe is bad comparison, but for me it was slow decline and slow way up. I still have bad days, but everyone have bad days, is part of life.”_

Swallowing, Sid pauses the video and gets up from the couch. His legs are crawling with restlessness, and he walks around the room for a while, circling his furniture. Maybe it’s magnesium deficiency? But a small voice at the back of his mind says that it’s something else completely.

He gets a glass of water as he returns to the couch and presses play again. Geno looks like anyone. There are no signs of him battling depression, or any of the physical damage he mentioned briefly. He looks good; smiling and sometimes flirting with the audience.

Sid half-listens to Geno telling them about his favorite prank that he pulled on Phil, and then explaining that he’s single. Towards the end, after giving them his best chicken sandwich recipe, he says: _“This is end of video, but if you want see more of me talk about mental health, you can look at playlist on channel. If you want see more of Guddy naked, you can watch video next week, because he do calendar shoot.”_ He winks at the camera before he leans forward and ends the video.

Some part of Sid knows that it’s opening Pandora’s box, but he still goes to find the playlist that Geno mentioned. There are a lot of videos in there, of varying length and setting. Sid scrolls until he finds one that says: _“Plants!”_

It’s a ridiculous title, but he clicks it anyway. There’s Geno and he’s in a different setting now. There’s a grey couch and some photos on a wall. It doesn’t look like he’s at the firehouse, and he’s dressed in a regular t-shirt, drinking something from a floral mug. He looks younger here, and when Sid checks the date, the video is 1.5 years old.

 _“Hey guys,”_ Geno says and holds up his mug in some kind of cheers. _“I’m home today, drink Russian tea and I make video for you. Is short because I’m need go get groceries, but also because it’s easy tip from me to you.”_

Geno reaches out of view and then sits back with a potted plant in one hand, his mug is still in the other.

 _“Easy way for me to see how I’m doing with depression, is my plants. My therapist tell me buy plant after maybe…third session? I’m not get why, but now I have maybe twenty plants. Is maybe best tip I have for you, because my plant tell me how I do with mental health. If I’m not do well, I forget to water plant and they get sad and, if I still don’t water, they die. When I start I kill maybe five plants.”_ He laughs a little at that. _“I also buy difficult plants, so is not just my fault! But I can see now when I need pay more attention to my mental health, because I see when my plants droop, like this_ _—_ _”_ he pushes the leaves down _“_ _—_ _I know I’m on decline, so I need push myself and work hard. Is like smoke alarm for my brain. Also, is good for depression to care for something. Before, when I’m bad, sometimes I can’t care for myself, but I feel better if maybe I can care for plant little bit, you know? Make me feel not so worthless.”_

Sid stares at the screen. A fucking plant? He looks around the room. He used to have a few plants, but they died forever ago. The summer was dry and too hot, and well, maybe he forgot to water them regularly. He had other things to do.

It’s not until three days later, when he’s at the grocery store, that he stops in front of a plant display. This should be easy. It’s not because he needs a smoke alarm for his brain, like Geno put it, it’s because his old plants are dead and he wants new ones.

He leaves the grocery store with two strawberry plants that he puts in his kitchen window.

A week later, he notices them when he’s making his breakfast coffee. They’re dead.

 _Oh_.

Swallowing, Sid throws them in the trash and ignores the way his chest suddenly pulls tight. He’s fine. It’s fine. Not everyone has a good hand with plants. His brain starts spinning, jumping from thought to thought, and he’s unable to fully grasp any of them. It’s like a freight train, plowing through his mind, speeding up with every second that passes.

“I need to sit down,” he mumbles to himself and fumbles for a kitchen chair. He presses his head down between his knees and breathes the best he can. His vision blurs and his head starts feeling light. What if he’s dying? Maybe this is it. But then the tightness around his chest starts to ease up, and his vision comes back slowly, but surely. Once he’s regained control of his limbs, he’s trembling and weak all over. His skin is clammy with cold sweat and his t-shirt sticks to his torso. Somehow, and he’s not entirely sure _how_ , he manages to get himself to the living room couch and lies down.

His phone is somewhere upstairs, but his computer is sitting on the living room table, and he can call Taylor from FaceTime. He almost drops it, his hands uncharacteristically weak, when he grabs it and places it on his lap.

Just as he’s about to call Taylor and ask her to get some help, his gaze sticks to the open website. It’s the YouTube channel Taylor showed him, and in the sidebar, there’s a video with Geno’s face and the title: _My anxiety and panic attacks_

His throat is dry, and his heartbeat picks up again, but at a less frightening pace, when he clicks on it. This time, Geno is sitting on his couch again, and he looks a little rumpled.

 _“Hi guys,”_ he says and waves to the camera. _“I’m just wake up, but I want post a video before I go in for shift. Hope you all have a good day and feel good with yourself. Lots of you ask me about anxiety and panic attack, and what it mean. I’m only talk for myself_ _—_ _I say to you all the time, I’m not therapist so is not professional help you get from me. I’m like online friend you talk with, but I’m not give you best advice. Good advice you get from therapist, okay?”_

He takes a huge sip from a mug and rubs a hand over his face, yawning.

_“First time I have panic attack is little bit after my accident. My accident is almost four years ago now, I come back to work two and a half year ago, so I’m out for long time. Is how bad it was for me.”_

Oh shit, that’s a long time. Sid knows what it’s like being kept away from work when there’s something not healing properly. His concussion was a nightmare in so many ways, but he at least knew why he got it. Right now, he isn’t sure why he isn’t his normal self.

 _“I think, for me, at first I have lots of worry thoughts. I start worry about little thing, maybe leak in apartment, maybe something happen to coworkers, maybe family not do okay back in Russia. I start think about everything I maybe do wrong when I work again, you know? Is like…”_ Geno trails off and makes a frustrated sound. _“Is like part of my brain know other part is being stupid, but that part not listen, you know? And it pull me in. All thoughts is so convincing and they come more often every day. I start worry about going to grocery store_ _—_ _everything! For long time I have this worry in my stomach, right here_ _—_ _”_ he sits back a little and places a hand over his stomach _“_ _—_ _is worst feeling. Is like my body know something is wrong, or something bad about to happen, or I’m make something bad before that I’m not remember. And my brain start search, you know? Start looking for what wrong. Why is alarm go off? My brain want find fire, you know, so I can put it out.”_

Geno shakes his head. _“Thing is, there is no fire. My brain lie to me, and it find fire everywhere, even though there is no fire. That was anxiety for me. I have worry feeling in my body all time, and when I’m not occupied with something, my brain find new thing to worry about.”_

Sid shivers. He knows that feeling of worry and unease. He’s had that a lot lately.

 _“Is not better because suddenly I have trouble with sleep also. Like, sometime I wake up in middle of night because I feel worry without know why, and stress system in body kick in so I can’t sleep again. Then, I start get panic attack. First time, I’m sure I’m about to die.”_ He grimaces. _“I can’t breathe, you know? Is like something push my chest in, not allowing for air to go in my lungs when I breathe. Sometime my chest hurt so much I think I’m have heart attack.”_

Oh fuck. Sid digs his fingers into his thigh. _That’s him._ That’s what’s happening to him. Shit. So he’s not dying, he’s having panic attacks? That feels even worse. Nothing traumatic happened to him. It’s not like whatever happened to Geno. He’s having panic attacks over _nothing_.

_“If you have panic attack, you ask for help. Is so scary every time, and sometime even fear of getting panic attack is worse than attack itself, you know? Is okay to ask for help, guys. If you ask for help with broken foot, you can ask for help with broken part of brain. You can heal it, I’m promise, but you have to ask professional for help.”_

He smiles a little and something small eases in Sid’s chest. _“I do okay now. It’s been long time since I have attack, and you be better too.”_

Sid stares at the screen when the video ends. So there’s something wrong with him, then. Something completely different than he thought. He’s _broken_.

Without thinking too much, he starts typing a comment on the YouTube video.

**Hey Geno,**

**I just watched this video and realized that I’ve had several panic attacks over the course of a few months. I had one a few hours ago. I haven’t experienced anything traumatic, but anxiety (I assume, based on your description in this video) has been sneaking up on me. A week ago, I bought two plants, like you suggested in another video. Today’s panic attack was triggered by me noticing that they were dead (the plants, I mean).**

**I feel stupid for reacting to something so trivial. I haven’t watched that many of your videos, but from what I understood, you actually experienced something bad. So why am I broken for no reason?**

Before he can send it, he has to make an account. SC87 is a safe bet, and he posts the comment before he can think more of it. It’s not like Geno will see it anyway, much less respond.

He goes for a long walk after that. His thoughts are swirling, but at least he doesn’t have to worry about dying. A therapist is probably a good idea, but what if they think he’s being stupid? He has no reason for his anxiety. No one died. Except for Sam.

The following day, Sid sends an email to a local therapist, requesting a meeting as soon as possible. Then, he watches another of Geno’s videos where he talks about therapy and that makes all of this a little less scary.

**Hey Geno,**

**I contacted a therapist today and requested to meet with them. I worry that they’ll tell me that I’m being ridiculous for having anxiety over nothing. My dog died a few months ago, and she was my best friend, but she was old.**

**Thanks for these videos. They help.**

While Sid knows that there’s no way Geno are reading his comments, it doesn’t really matter. Writing it where someone else can see them makes his decisions more final. He can see his own words there, on the screen, too and just acknowledging this to himself is both terrifying and making things a little easier at the same time.

The first time Sid meets his new therapist, Morgan, she gives him coffee and a kind smile.

“So, Sid, please tell me why you wanted to see me today.”

His tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth and he swallows with some difficulty, before he manages:

“I think I have anxiety. I think I’ve had panic attacks. I, uh, there’s something wrong with me and I don’t think I can fix it myself.”

“Can you describe that anxiety and the panic attacks for me?”

She doesn’t have a notepad. Shouldn’t she have a notepad?

“Sid?”

“Sorry. Um, I haven’t been evaluated, obviously.”

“I figure that’s why you wanted to see me.” She smiles again.

“Well, yeah.” He takes a sip of his coffee. “I wake up at night a lot. I have this restless feeling in my body all the time. There’s this sense of having done something wrong, or missed something, or just _something_ not being right.”

“You wake up at night and something doesn’t feel right in your body.”

“Yeah.” Sid nods. “When I wake up, sometimes I can’t breathe. It’s like...it’s like there’s a belt strapped around my chest and someone pulling it so tight that I can’t get air. I feel like I’m about to die every time that happens.”

His fingers tremble against the mug and he puts it down on the table.

“My heart races even when I haven’t worked out. I have this constant feeling that the other shoe is about to drop, and I don’t know what that shoe even is.”

He leaves an hour later with a new appointment for next week and a questionnaire to fill in. He glances at the first question. _How often have you been bothered by feeling down, depressed, irritable, or hopeless over the last two weeks?_ He folds it and stuffs it in the pocket of his hoodie before he drives home.

**Hey Geno,**

**I was at my first appointment today and it went okay. I thought for sure that they were going to shrug me off, but I have a new appointment set for next week, and a questionnaire to fill in. It’s supposed to judge my level of depression and anxiety. From just scanning the questions, I feel like I’m going to score high on both tests.**

**I think I’m on the right track for asking for help. Thanks.**

**(Don’t worry, I know you don’t read these. It’s just so I have to hold myself accountable for the decisions I make.)**

+    +    +

As it turns out, therapy is a fucking pain in the ass. According to the evaluation Morgan makes, he’s very depressed and has a high level of anxiety.

“You filled in these forms yourself,” Morgan says. “Why would you say they’re incorrect?”

“I don’t have anything to be depressed or anxious over.”

She tilts her head to the side. “No?”

“I know I was forced to retire. I know I can’t play hockey again with my knee, but I can walk and I can work out, and everything is fine.”

“You just can’t play hockey.”

Sid swallows heavily. “Yeah.”

Tears burn behind his eyes and he swallows again, but a lump has lodged itself in his throat. He can’t ever play hockey again. That life is over.

“Oh fuck,” he whispers.

**Hey Geno,**

**I’ve been diagnosed with depression and anxiety by my therapist. I had to end my career prematurely a while ago and I hadn’t realized that maybe that affected me more than I wanted to admit.**

**I have gotten new plants. Maybe I’ll succeed this time.**

It’s almost Christmas when he calls Taylor for the first time since he moved back to Canada. Texts are one thing, and a phone conversation something completely different.

“Sid?” she says after picking up. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, out of reflex, and winces. “Are you back for Christmas yet?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Can you come over then?”

“Are you okay?” she asks again.

“I’ll explain tomorrow.” He takes a breath. “Nothing happened or anything.”

Afterwards, he stands in the hallway and stares at Sam’s leash. He should take it down and get rid of the hook, he knows that. It’s so final somehow, getting rid of it. Sam was his best friend for years and during most of his professional career, and now she’s gone. Maybe he isn’t ready yet.

He waters his plant, a chinese evergreen that the store promised was easy to take care of. So far it’s still alive and looks somewhat healthy.

 _One step at a time,_ Morgan always says to him whenever he gets frustrated about his slow progress, or when he regresses. _It took awhile for you to get where you are, it’s going to take time to get back. That’s okay._

Late that night, he picks up his computer and opens YouTube. A while back, he subscribed to the YouTube channel, and he gets a notification every time a video is uploaded. Tonight, though, there’s a message waiting for him.

**Hello SC87,**

**Thank you for all your comments. I read all and I follow your journey. So happy that you decide on therapy and you stick with it. Sometime it’s hard, because you turn brain inside out, you know? Is not easy, but you will be stronger on other side. ))**

**In normal I don’t reply private, only reply to comment, but I think you so brave for taking steps now.**

**How is new plant? )))**

**Geno**

Sid blinks and reads it again. The message from Geno is very kind, but very unexpected. He’d assumed that he was writing comments into the void, and knowing that Geno has been following his progress makes him squirm. Sure, the comments are open for anyone to read, but Sid can’t imagine that anyone would pay particular attention to his. But Geno...Sid has grown fond of him. He’s like a distant friend.

He clicks reply, but pauses with his fingers hovering over the keys. _Maybe later._

+    +    +

Taylor hugs him tight when he lets her in the following evening and she doesn’t pry him for answers all through dinner. Sid can see her gaze lingering on the plants, and the printed card for the next appointment with Morgan that’s stuck to the fridge, but she doesn’t comment on it.

It’s several hours later, when they’ve just finished another episode of Game of Thrones, when he clears his throat and says: “I’m in therapy.”

Taylor pauses the credits and turns towards him on the couch, tucking her legs underneath her. Her gaze is soft and she has a barely-there smile that settles Sid’s nerves slightly.

“I’ve…” he trails off and clears his throat twice. “I have depression and anxiety. But I’m getting help now.”

“Oh Sid,” she says and scoots over the cushions to wrap him in a hug. She’s on her knees, for once a little taller than him, and he can hide his face against her shoulder. “I’m so proud of you.”

Before she leaves, she stops inside the front door and kisses his cheek. “If there’s anything you need that I can help you with, just let me know.”

**Hey Geno,**

**Thanks for replying to my comments. I didn’t think you’d read them and now I feel a bit stupid for using your comment section as my own personal diary of sorts.**

**So far my plant is doing okay. It’s still alive and most of the leaves are green, so I’m counting that as a win.**

**Today I told my sister that I’m in therapy and she took it well. She’s great, but I couldn’t help but worry about her reaction beforehand. I figure that maybe that’s a part of my lacking mental health.**

**Your videos are a great support for me. You’re sharing so generously and it helps a lot when I’m feeling alone in this. It gives me some hope that I can get better. Thank you!**

**Sid**

He tries to meditate that evening, but he can’t concentrate. He hasn’t told his parents yet, and he probably should. His mom would be disappointed if she found out later, but it’s more difficult to confess this to them than to Taylor.

Instead of meditating, he writes his daily journal and waters his plant. Sam’s leash stays on its hook.

+    +    +

Sid barely remembers Christmas, except for that he survived it. He still hasn’t told his parents, but with the way his mom looked at him during their meals, she knows something is up. It was as though she was waiting for him to shatter.

He’s sent a couple of messages back and forth with Geno. It’s nothing interesting really, except for talking about his day and reading about Geno’s own.

It’s January when Sid is having a particularly frustrating setback and he sends Geno a message at two a.m.

**I don’t get why I can’t stop thinking about having to quit my career. I knew it was going to happen eventually. It happens to all athletes, you know? Either you get injured or you’re too old and can’t keep up with the young guys.**

**Here I am, choking up every two days, like a fucking idiot just because of something I always knew was going to happen.**

**Sorry. I’m just frustrated.**

He drags a hand over his face and puts the laptop beside him in bed. Walking around the house, just to get some physical motion that his brain can stick to, he makes mental notes of what to say to Morgan at the next appointment. She talks about acceptance a lot, but Sid is really struggling with that.

To his surprise, there’s an answer waiting for him when he gets back to his computer.

**Sid,**

**Sorry you not have great night. It’s night for you, no? We have slow night so far here, so I have chance to write you.**

**I think grief is normal part of acceptance. If you not grieve, you not care from beginning, you know? I think your sorrow is like letting out pressure before you can close lid and put it away. If you not let out pressure, if you not grieve something you think is important and was big part of life, then you going to explode. Do I make sense?**

**For me, it’s more easy when I stop fight and let feelings be there. Is understandable you feel this way. Maybe try tell yourself so also?**

Sid reads the message twice. If he just accepts this, it might drown him.

Taking a slow, deep breath, Sid leans back against the headboard. Geno might be right. He played professional hockey for well over a decade and he can’t remember a time when it wasn’t his dream. Going out like he did, with Wilson giving him a bad hit, sending him feet first into the boards and his knee shredded into something close to irreparable...well, maybe it’s not that strange that he’s angry and disappointed. Maybe it’s not that strange that he’s lost, having been stripped of such a huge part of his identity.

Maybe he’s not that strange.

**Thank you. I’m used to making progress, of performing above and beyond. I used to thrive on exceeding everyone’s expectation. I guess I somehow assumed that simply knowing my diagnosis would make them go away. I thought it was a little like, I don’t know, if you know there’s a boogeyman under the bed, he can’t scare you anymore and he’s no longer the boogeyman.**

Mulling over his own words, Sid chews his bottom lip. Mental health isn’t something that’s ever been discussed in his family or the league. No one ever talks about what retirement does to players, or why getting help is a good thing. It never even crossed his mind that he’d be affected by retiring like this. Until now, when he’s in the middle of the tornado that’s his brain.

A notifications pops up on the screen.

**Depression and anxiety is illness, Sid. Just like bad cold, stomach flu or more serious illness like cancer, it don’t go away when you know you have them, your illness not go away either. Sometimes it’s immune system that need kick in, sometimes it’s long treatment. Sometimes you need medicine all life. Same with your illness now. Maybe you need for work on mental health for long time, but with professional help (like you get now) it get better. Maybe you need for look back on where you use to be, and not forward, for where you want. I think you make more steps, make bigger progress than you think. I think you come longer way than you know. Sometimes look back on where you start make it more easy to move forward.**

**You so brave for go to therapy, for talk to me. It took me long time for be better, and maybe it take long time for you too, but you take steps on the way. Every week is less bad than last week. Every month is less bad than last month. Every year is a better year.**

At his next appointment with Morgan, Sid rubs his palms together and swallows twice in short order. “I’ve made a new friend. I think he’s the reason I dared to get in touch with you.”

“He’s made an impact on you.”

“I—yeah.” Sid thinks back on the early videos he watched, and then the amount of videos he’s watched since then. “My sister told me to watch a YouTube channel. It’s by a group of firefighters, maybe the entire, you know, unit. Geno, he’s the friend, used to make videos about mental health there. He’s had a lot to deal with himself over the years and he’s doing well now, but he’s very open about his mental health.”

“How did you become friends?”

“I used to leave comments on the videos as a way of making sure I owned up to my own words, and sort of updating him on my progress. A while back he sent me a message and since then we’ve been talking back and forth.”

She smiles. “That’s great, Sid.”

“He gives me some perspective when I lose hope, I guess. He’s explained that I can’t always expect my progress to be linear.”

“How do you feel when he says that?”

Sid sighs. “Frustrated, I guess. At least at first. When that passes, I’m kind of relieved, because it means I’m not a lost cause.”

**I told my therapist about you today.**

**+    +    +**

It’s late February when Sid wakes up gasping for breath for the first time in a while. Clutching his throat and kicking off the duvet, he tumbles out of bed and hunches over on his hands and knees.

 _It’s just a panic attack,_ he tells himself. _It’s just a panic attack. You’re not dying._

But the iron grip around his rib cage seems to pull tighter with every second that passes and he grabs his phone, scrolling until he finds Taylor’s name. _No_. She’d just worry. It’s in the middle of the night and it would probably be even worse for her to be so far away when he’s like this.

 _Geno_.

He fumbles with his computer, placing it on the edge of the bed, fighting the way his vision shrinks with every desperate breath.

**Im havin the wrost panic attac in a long time I feel like im dying**

He leans forward, resting his forehead against the mattress and the cool metal of his laptop and tries to count his breaths. But they never manage to time and his heart beats even harder as he gasps in another breath, his body desperate for oxygen, and then fails to let it out slow enough.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck._

**I can call, talk with you for a bit?**

Sid doesn’t think twice before he pecks out his phone number, somehow managing to focus enough to make sure it’s the right one, and sends it.

A second later, his phone lights up with an incoming call from a 929 area code number.

Sid tries to accept the call twice before it actually works. “Hello?”

“Sid?”

Sucking in a breath, something settles in his stomach by the familiar sound of Geno’s voice. “Hi.”

“What you need?”

Gripping the sheets on either side of the laptop, Sid presses the back of his feet harder against the bedroom floor. “Just talk to me, I don’t know, anything.”

“Okay, I distract you.” He can hear Geno shuffling around on the other end.

 _He’s a real person,_ Sid thinks and manages another breath. _He’s a real person and he’s right there._

“I come home from work now and it was slow shift for me. I try Guddy’s new recipe for stew but it’s so bad, Sid, you not even realize. We order pizza instead, and he upset, but then we have a call so pizza arrive when we out. We eat cold pizza after, but is still better than Guddy stew.”

Sid smiles slightly. “It must’ve been really bad.”

“ _So_ bad, Sid.” He says Sid’s name again, and every time it’s like another small anchor settling him against the hardwood floor. “I make best food. Not all guys agree, but they not appreciate best food.”

“I don’t think you can decide that you make the best food—” Sid sucks in an unsteady breath. “—if your coworkers disagree with you.”

Geno snorts on the other end. “I think you my friend?”

Letting out a breathy laugh, Sid closes his eyes. “I am.”

“Most the time you good friend,” Geno says and Sid can hear the smile in his voice. “Today you get _B minus_.”

“I’ll take it.”

“Doing okay?” Geno checks in.

“Yeah, just...just keep talking, please.”

“Today I work a lot on truck,” Geno continues. “Cooler system have little bit problem, and I’m best on cars so I fix.” Just before Sid has a chance to ask, Geno adds: “Coworkers actually agree I’m best on this.”

Sid laughs. “Good to know.”

“Also I buy gift for my goddaughter. Is her birthday next week, so I get Coco puzzle and Coco shirt. You know Coco?”

Sid wracks his brain, but the only Coco he’s heard of is from his team’s wives and his own ex girlfriends. “Chanel?”

He can almost hear Geno roll his eyes with how loud he snorts. “No, Disney movie? She love, so I get puzzle we can do together next time I babysit.”

“That’s nice,” Sid says quietly. “How old is she?”

“She turn seven. Very stubborn, very good heart.” Geno’s voice is warm, filled to the brim with love for her.

“She sounds great.”

“I’m favorite. She want be firefighter when she grow up.” Geno pauses. “I think I talk her out of this when she older.”

“Why?”

“Is too dangerous.”

“I wanted to be a firefighter if I couldn’t be a professional athlete,” Sid says, absently, as he manages to take a slow, deep inhale.

“Can still be.”

“No,” he disagrees. “My knee is too damaged. I can work out mostly like normal, but I wouldn’t be able to carry people out of buildings or anything. Not for such long amounts of time, anyway. I wouldn’t be able to sit down and rest or switch exercise, like I can do at the gym.”

“Can be firefighter chef,” Geno amends. “We not have to eat shitty stew from Guddy, and I’m not have to cook for ungrateful colleagues.”

Sid laughs. “I think I can do that. Don’t you need to sleep?”

“Am winding down now,” Geno explains. “I sleep when we hang up. No problem.”

“Thank you for calling me.” Sid clears his throat and blinks away the last of the blurriness from his vision. “I was really scared.”

“Is scary,” Geno agrees. “I’m not have in long time, but is worst. Think you do right thing for reach out. Happy I see and can call.”

“I really appreciate that.”

“How you feel now?”

Sid checks over himself. His legs feel numb and his knee aches, but that might be because he’s been sitting on them. He’s covered in cold sweat and his chest burns, but at least he can breathe somewhat normally again.

“Better. Kind of gross, though.”

“Sweaty?” Geno asks.

“Yeah.”

“It feel better if you take shower before you go back to bed. You think you can do?”

“I don’t know,” Sid ventures. “I feel like the worst part is being alone.”

“You think is easier if I wait on phone when you rinse off? Not alone when you come back from shower, and we talk little bit more before sleep.”

“You’d do that?”

“Of course.”

Sid’s stomach warms. “Okay, I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.”

“No rush.”

Once he gets his legs under control, and they stop feeling like they’re going to collapse underneath him, he can relax under the warm water. It’s only a couple of minutes, but slowly, the terror of the panic attack washes off of him. He’s dry and naked when he climbs back into bed and grabs his phone.

“Are you still there?”

It takes a second, before he can hear some scraping and then Geno saying: “Yes, still here. How you feel now?”

“Much better.” Sid sighs and settles against the pillows. “The shower made a huge difference.”

“Is like you forget little bit how bad it is, when you warm and clean, yes?”

“Exactly like that.”

“I see on your phone number,” Geno says with some hesitation in his voice. “You not in U.S.”

“I’m in Canada,” Sid says with a little sigh. “In Nova Scotia. I lived in Pittsburgh for a long time, though.”

Geno pauses. “You like Canada better?”

“I’m from here, and, I don’t know. Pittsburgh got overwhelming and I fled up here. It was supposed to be just for a little while, but I couldn’t get myself to go back.”

“Maybe was good,” Geno says. “I think maybe change for scenery is great.”

“For a bit, I think it was a bad call,” Sid confesses. “I’m alone so much up here and I have fewer friends nearby, so I think that made my depression a lot worse. But I do think it’s good for me now to be here, and sort of get back on my feet in peace.”

“Maybe we never be friends if you still in Pittsburgh.”

“It’s funny how decisions can make a lot of things change indirectly, right?”

“Yes.” Geno yawns on the other end and Sid smiles to himself.

“I think that’s your cue to go to bed.”

“I think yes,” Geno agrees. “You okay now?”

“I’m okay.” Sid stretches out on the mattress. “Thank you for calling me. It helped a lot.”

“Happy to call,” Geno says and his voice is warm again. “Text me in morning so I know you still feel okay?”

“Sure.”

It’s easy to fall asleep after that, and instead of dragging himself out of bed when his alarm goes off a couple of hours later, Sid turns it off and falls back asleep. He wakes up again around ten a.m., which is a lot later than usual, but he feels _rested_ in a way he can’t remember doing in a long time.

He grabs his phone and finds Geno’s number among the last received calls.

**< Just woke up and I feel better than in a long time. Thank you. Have a good day today**

After sending the message, he creates a contact for Geno and dozes for another ten minutes, before he gets up to make brunch.

+    +    +

It’s March when Sid sits down by his dock and talks to Geno on the phone again.

“It’s really warm today, you know, for Canada in spring, so I’m sitting on my dock.” He looks out over the water and breathes in deep. He’s had a rough couple of days, but today is better.

“You have dock?”

“Yeah, my house is by a lake. I live outside a small town—nothing like New York where you live—close to where I grew up. It’s a bit more secluded, which I like for privacy. Lots of nature and everything. I go fishing whenever I can, and I like being outdoors a lot. I like the people here. They’ve known me since I was a kid.”

“Sound so nice,” Geno says with a wistful sigh.

“Did you grow up in New York?” Sid asks.

“This sound like New York accent to you?” Geno says, clearly teasing.

“I don’t know, man,” Sid teases. “I’ve heard how they speak in New Jersey. Based on that, anything is possible.”

Geno makes a sound of outrage, that makes Sid laugh out loud. “I know you kidding but is not funny.”

“I figure you’re from Eastern Europe,” Sid says as soon as he’s stopped laughing. “I remember you saying that your family is in Russia. Is that where you’re from?”

“Yes, from Magnitogorsk,” Geno says. “You know?”

“I have no idea, but I can google it.”

“No need. Is in Chelyabinsk, closest to Kazakhstan.”

“Is that far from Moscow?”

Geno makes a considering sound. “For Russia, no. For rest of the world, yes. Is probably almost thousand miles to Moscow. Is maybe twice so long as between Toronto and New York.”

“Okay, that’s far.”

“Russia huge,” Geno says, as a way of explanation. “I grow up there, move here when I’m teenager. I go to college little bit, but then I try firefighter academy and I get in. Now I’m here still.”

“Why did you want to become a firefighter?”

“When I’m maybe fifteen, my grandmother die in fire in her building. When I learn about academy, I think is good for me, I can make difference, make sure no one else lose grandmother.”

Sid swallows. “She’d be super proud of you, I’m sure.”

“I think so,” Geno says.

“Do you miss Russia?”

“Lots.” Geno sighs. “Sometimes I think I go back, live more close to family, but sacrifice is maybe too big.”

Sid hesitates for a moment. He isn’t sure he should ask, but it’s been a while since he felt curious about anything at all, so he gives in to the temptation. “Why’s that?”

This time, it’s Geno’s turn to be silent. “I’m can’t have family in Russia. Can’t...can’t live with partner. In Russia is not okay I’m gay.”

Sid blinks. “That has to be hard,” he says. “To feel like you can’t go back and be yourself.”

“Is why I stay here.” Geno is quiet for a while again before he continues. “I’m here almost as long as I’m in Russia. All my adult life is here, so I think maybe it’s too hard for me if I go back now anyway.”

“I can’t really imagine what that’s like,” Sid says quietly. “Canada is a lot more liberal.”

“It’s good country,” Geno agrees. “Have to marry Canadian if I’m want live there, though.”

“There are lots of men who are into other men here.” Sid looks over the water.

“Gay men everywhere,” Geno says with humour in his voice.

“There are also those of us who are bi,” Sid says, despite his throat being dry. There’s a beat of silence that makes his brain prepare to take off, until Geno speaks again.

“True. Thank you for sharing.”

“The people closest to me know,” Sid explains. “It’s not really a secret. My team knew, but I didn’t want the whole league to know, necessarily.”

“Understandable.”

“Your coworkers, do they know?”

“Of course.” Geno says it like it’s easy. “We so close here, know everything about each other. Is important for me they know. I move to New York so I’m not have to watch my back, so I’m always honest.”

“You seem to be a good group of guys,” Sid says. No one on his own team batted an eye when he told them about being bisexual, but his only long term relationships during his career were with women. On the other hand, his teammates were nothing but happy to help when he was single and picked up his fair share of men in bars on the west coast, where fewer people would recognize him.

“Best,” Geno says. “Maybe you meet some day.”

Sid smiles to himself and lies down on the dock, staring up at the blue, cloud-free sky. “I think I’d like that.”

“I meet first.” Geno moves around on the other end. “Then, maybe I share with them.”

“I’m not your property,” Sid laughs.

“But you _my_ friend.”

“Alright, fair enough.”

“Is nice hear you laugh,” Geno says then, switching gears entirely. “More often now than when we first talk on phone. You feel better today than yesterday, too?”

“Today is better,” Sid agrees.

“Glad to hear so.”

+    +    +

Sid tells his parents in April when he feels like he can take whatever reaction they might have. He’s prepared Taylor too, in case he, or their parents call her afterwards.

“You’re seeing a therapist?” his mom asks.

“Since last year.”

“Last year?” His dad sits up straighter in his chair.

“I started in November.”

His mom is quiet for a long while, before she says, “That’s a long time, hon.”

“Sorry for not telling you sooner.” He clears his throat and rubs his palms against his jeans under the table. “I felt like I had to get back in my head a bit.”

His dad watches him with a considering look in his eyes. “Things haven’t been too good for a while, right?”

“Ever since I retired, more or less.”

“I think we’ve all noticed that you haven’t been doing well,” his mom says, her voice gentle. “But you always said that you were fine when we asked.”

“Well I…” Sid trails off and shakes his head. “For a long while I thought I didn’t have anything that could justify how bad I was doing. I had a longer career than most and I can live a normal life. I haven’t gambled away all my money, or spent it on too much luxury. I have you guys. I felt like I was being wrong for feeling the way I did.”

“And therapy,” his dad says, in his usual stilted way. “How’s therapy?”

“Rough.” Sid sighs. “Sometimes I feel more mangled when I leave there, than after a really hard workout. But I’m doing better. If I compare to September...to be honest, I can’t even really remember anything from September.”

“Hon, we’re so proud of you for asking for help,” his mom says and reaches over to squeeze his hand. “Thank you for telling us.”

“Can we help with anything?” his dad says, and it’s like a brick wall has collapsed from Sid’s shoulders.

Later, when he’s lying on the couch, listening to Geno preparing dinner on the other end, he says, “I told my parents today, about going to therapy.”

“What they say?”

“They asked if they could help in any way.”

Geno hums. “Glad they react well. I know you worry little bit.”

“My dad is very much, I don’t know, a man of his generation I guess. Talking about feelings isn’t his strong suit. He’s got other qualities, but I worried that he’d be too uncomfortable to say what I needed to hear.”

“But he do?”

“He was the one who asked me what they could do to help.”

“Ah Sid,” Geno says and his voice sounds thick.

“Are you crying?” Sid asks before he can stop himself.

“No, chop onions.” Geno sniffles. “Okay, maybe bit of both.”

+    +    +

A week later, Sid opens the message inbox on his phone. The amount of unread texts is now up to 93 and he scrolls through them carefully. He’ll pick the ones from his closest friends first. The rest of them can wait.

He has a bunch from Flower and none of them are upset or angry. On the contrary, the last two are very understanding and gentle.

**> Reply when you feel like you can. I’ll be here**

So maybe his mental health hasn’t been a secret to anyone but himself. He was dealing badly when Flower was drafted to Vegas, but managed thanks to his careful hockey routine and schedule. After awhile, he accepted a team without Flower on it. A new normal, of sorts.

**< Hey. I know it’s been a long time since I answered any of your texts and calls. I never meant to worry you. I’ve been dealing with a lot on my own, but I’m doing better now. It’s a slow progress. I should probably tell you that I’m in therapy and I’m getting really good help from my therapist. How are you? How are the kids? Are you planning on being in Canada this summer? **

After that, it’s easy to send messages to Tanger and Nate as well. The rush of relief makes him want to reply to every single message in his inbox, but for every message he sends, there are most likely going to be replies, and Morgan strongly advised against doing anything that would overwhelm him mentally. Receiving over fifty messages in short order would probably result in that.

Meditating has stopped feeling silly and like a waste of time, and is instead a window of time where he can clear his head for a bit. It’s not that different from when he listened to music on the bus to the arena on away-games, or going through his game day routines, when he thinks about it. Instead of preparing for a game, he’s making sure he’s settled for another match up with his brain. Only recently, he seems to have started winning.

It’s late evening, and he’s reading in bed, his eyes starting to droop dangerously, when his phone buzzes with an incoming call from Geno. Sid closes his book and picks up his phone, rubbing his eyes.

“Hello?”

“Sid.”

Sitting up straight, Sid is suddenly wide awake. Geno sounds _wrecked_.

“What’s wrong?”

There’s a small sound on the other end and Sid’s chest aches, but not in the terrifying way it does when he has a panic attack.

“How is today for you?” Geno asks carefully.

“Don’t ask about me when there’s clearly something you need. What happened?”

“Have to ask,” Geno says. “Is today bad or good day for you?”

“With my mental health?” Sid asks, bewildered and when Geno makes a sound of confirmation, he continues. “It’s been a decent day without much anxiety or anything.”

“You okay if I talk about something bad?” Geno takes a deep breath. “Bad day for me, and I love for talk to friend, but I have other friend I talk to if you not think is gonna work for you to listen today.”

“Of course I’ll listen,” Sid protests.

“ _Sid_ ,” Geno says, his tone sharp now. “It’s very important you say no if you not feel okay. You never have obligation to _anyone_. If our friendship work, you need let me know when a day is okay for talk, or when it’s not.”

Sid wants to protest again, but Morgan spoke about this last week. He’s the only one who can know what works for him and he has to let the people around him know what he needs.

“Okay, give me a minute.” He shuts his eyes for a second, checking in with himself. There’s no underlying sense of worry in his stomach today, no prickling sensation at the back of his neck, or tightness over his chest. His mind is calmer than in days. “I’ll be okay, and I want to listen if you want to share.”

Geno takes a deep breath. “Just come home from shift. We get call and everything is chaos. You sure you okay with listen?”

“Yeah, I don’t think this sort of thing will trigger my anxiety.” Sid settles against the headboard and hugs the duvet to his body. “I’ll let you know if it’s too much, alright? I promise.”

“Okay.” Geno takes a deep breath again. It sounds steady enough, so it’s probably not a panic attack, but he sounds distressed. “It’s fire in apartment building and when we get there, we learn there’s people in building still, so we go in.”

Sid listens to Geno’s breaths while he pauses. They’re still steady.

“It’s bad, Sid. We know we have little time before it’s too dangerous for go in, and place is filled with smoke so can’t see anything. I...I’m get flashback from accident little bit, I think. Not too bad, but I’m really have to focus. I get little girl out, little girl and cat who lie on top. I think girl make it, not sure if cat survive. They tell me old woman still in building so I’m about go in again, but then there’s flashover and fire is out of control. Our captain say we can’t go in.”

 _Geno’s grandmother,_ Sid thinks and his heart breaks.

“So we have for leave her.”

“I’m so sorry,” Sid whispers. “That must be awful. I don’t know what else to say—I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

“Is part of job I never learn for deal with,” Geno says and his voice sounds thick through the speaker. “I’m hate when I can’t save everyone.”

“What do you need from me right now?” Sid asks carefully. “Do you want to talk through it, or do you want me to distract you?”

Geno takes a deep breath again and snivels. “We FaceTime?”

“Sure,” Sid says before he can think better of it, but then he remembers that he’s never told Geno exactly who he is. Not that he’s actually worked hard to hide it, but still. “Maybe I should tell you who I am first,” he adds.

Geno snorts at that, sounding more like his normal self suddenly. “Know who you are, Sid.”

“Oh.” Sid clears his throat. “I just didn’t want it to be weird.”

Geno lets out a laugh, albeit a short one. “I call you in minute, okay?”

“Talk soon.”

Sid grabs his laptop from the bedside table and types in the password, just as Geno calls him on FaceTime. It’ll be easier on there when he’s in bed. Accepting the call, Sid drags a hand over his hair. It’s getting a little too long, closer to how it was early in his career, and his curls are out of control.

He can’t help but smile when Geno’s face fills the screen.

“Hi.”

“Hi, Sid.” Geno smiles back, but his eyes are red-rimmed and puffy.

“How are you holding up?”

Geno shrugs and looks away. “Not so good.”

“Can you tell me what you need?”

“Just talk about other thing.” Geno scrubs a hand over his face. “I need distract for little bit, then I’m can talk about hard things more.”

“Okay.” Sid nods to himself. He can do this. “Today I went fishing and caught some chain pickerel. I let them all go, but still. It was a good day. I replied to a couple of texts as well, and that felt good.”

He continues to tell Geno about his day, even what he had for lunch and dinner, until the frayed look on Geno’s face slowly fades.

“Thank you,” he says when Sid trails off.

“I’m happy to help when I can.”

“I know.” Geno smiles, but then he grows serious. “Today remind me of accident. I never tell you about accident, no?”

Sid shakes his head. “No, but you’ve mentioned it in videos, but I don’t think you ever said what happened.”

“Is long time ago now.” Geno shrugs. “I still have some problems. It’s fire in apartment building like today, but we there more fast and I go in. We not know how many trapped in building—maybe no people, maybe fifty. We notice fire get worse, not better. Stronger, you know? More intense. Is sign we not have lot more time, so I decide I go in one more time. So far we not find anyone in building, but we have little bit left to check.”

Sid realizes that he’s holding his breath, waiting for the bad turn of events. _Geno’s here_ , he tells himself. _He’s alive and well_.

“I find little dog and I pick up, put him under jacket.” Geno sighs at himself and shakes his head. “Most stupid. Don’t know why I do. Moment later, is backdraft and ceiling rafter drop on me. I’m not remember this, but I’m told after, in hospital.”

Sid tries to find something to say, but Geno doesn’t seem to need his comfort right now.

“Dog is okay, but I’m have burns on torso.” He motions on himself somewhere out of frame, but Sid can guess. “I break arm, too, dislocate other arm, and few broken ribs. I’m lucky Guddy is almost right behind. He pull me out so fast. If not, I die, or maybe best case is severe face burn on top of this.” He motions to himself again.

“Are you...are you healed?” Sid asks carefully.

Geno shrugs. “Yes, it look not so pretty maybe, but is better now after years. Have other problems that bother more.”

Biting his lip, Sid swallows. If Geno mentioned the other problems, it’s probably okay if he asks about that. “Other problems?”

Looking down, Geno gives him a one-shoulder shrug. “Doctor say is psychological, and he probably right. Is weird, this more hard for say than I think.”

“You don’t have to,” Sid hurries. “It’s okay.”

“Want to.” Geno clears his throat. “When I’m in accident, I’m in relationship. Long term, almost six years. We break up maybe one year after because, uh, because sex not work anymore.”

Sid isn’t really a touchy-feely person per se, but right now he’d do anything to touch Geno. He looks almost ashamed, as if this is somehow his blame to carry. “Because of your depression?” he asks, making his voice as gentle as he can. It’s not like he’s been too interested in sex the past year himself, so it would make sense.

“Depression too.” Geno clears his throat. “Still have problems with get hard, or stay hard. Sometime both. Can’t do medication because is in my brain. Make it hard for meet someone, you know? Gay community here is lots of pressure on sex.”

“Anyone should be lucky to have you,” Sid protests. “You’re amazing.”

Geno smiles then, small but genuine. “Thank you.”

Sid smiles back, helplessly.

+    +    +

It’s the middle of May when Taylor comes for another visit. Sid watches her gaze sweep over his growing collection of houseplants, and the tiny smile that grows on her lips. Straightening, trying to hide his pride, he ushers her to the kitchen table.

“How are you?” she asks as she sits down.

“Better,” he says. “Today is a pretty good day.”

Her smile grows. “I’m glad to hear that.”

“How are you?” Sid asks in return.

“Stressing over finals, but other than that, I’m good.”

“You’ll do great,” he assures her. “You’re the smartest person I know.”

They’re watching Game of Thrones again when his phone buzzes with an incoming text from Geno.

**> How is today? You have nice evening with sister? **

Sid looks over at her. She’s immersed in Jon Snow’s frankly kind of boring walk with the wildlings.

**< It’s good. We’re watching Game of Thrones right now. Have you watched it? **

“Who are you texting?” Taylor asks suddenly and Sid almost drops the phone in surprise.

“Geno,” he says.

She raises her eyebrows at him. “Who’s—oh my god, Geno from that YouTube channel I showed you?”

Right. Of course Taylor knows who he is.

“Yeah.” Sid locks his phone and licks his lips. “We’re friends.”

_“Really?!”_

“Why couldn’t we be friends?” Sid asks defensively.

“Because that would mean you reached out to him.”

“So what if I did?”

She punches him in the arm, hard enough to hurt a bit, but not so hard he can complain about it.

“So how is he?”

He doesn’t have enough words to describe Geno. Smiling to himself, Sid shrugs. “He’s great. He’s, uh, he’s funny—” he laughs then, remembering when Geno explained in great detail why Phil is an idiot, and how he’d filled Phil’s locker with hotdogs and cans of Coke just to be an asshole. “—He’s great. We talk a lot about stuff and he gets me.”

When he looks up, Taylor’s gaze is soft. “Oh Sid.”

“What?”

She shakes her head and turns back to the screen. “Tell Geno hi from me. Shit, what happened? I need to rewind.”

**< Taylor says hi**

**> Say hi back! If Jon Snow not so short I marry him. **

Sid snorts to himself.

**< I think he’s straight**

**> Maybe you right. You look little bit like him. I’m marry you instead**

Huffing out a laugh under his breath, earning him a sideways glance from Taylor, he types back:

**< Sure, don’t forget to send me an invitation and I’ll be there. I need to concentrate on the episode. Call you later?**

**> Yes, have fun!**

It’s almost midnight when he curls up under the duvet in bed and calls Geno. He’s probably already asleep, but it would be rude not at least try.

Much to his surprise, Geno picks up on the second ring.

“Hi,” he says and his voice is warm and a little sleepy.

“Hi,” Sid echoes, smiling to himself. “Did I wake you?”

“No, just lie in bed wait for you.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Sid protests, even though it feels good. “I would completely understand if you’d fallen asleep.”

“Wanted to,” Geno says simply. “How was evening with Taylor?”

“It was great. I made a new dish for dinner, and it turned out really well.” Sid takes a breath, and then proceeds to tell Geno about his evening, and then listens to Geno as he does the same.

When he wakes up again the following morning, his phone is pressed against his cheek and there’s a message waiting for him.

**> Can’t believe you fall asleep. Have good day! **

He knows Geno well enough by now to make out his teasing even through text messages. It’s nice. He hasn’t felt this comfortable around someone else, other than Taylor, in a long time.

**< Sorry, I must’ve been more tired than I thought. Have a good day at work**

The next appointment with Morgan is particularly rough, even though Sid can’t put his finger on why, exactly. He’s worn out and aching when he leaves, and it makes him feel skinless, almost.

He curls up on the couch with a mug of tea and stares at the black screen of the TV for a long time, before he can grab his phone and send Geno a message.

**< I had a rough session today. Is it normal to feel worse afterwards? **

He knows Geno is at work, but they have an understanding where Geno replies whenever he has time and neither of them feels bad when he can’t. However, Geno calls him up almost immediately through FaceTime.

“Hey,” Sid says as he picks up. He looks tired even on his own tiny thumbnail of himself.

“Hi.” Geno smiles before he shovels food into his mouth. “Am at work, is okay?”

“Sure.” Sid smiles back. “It’s fine if you don’t have time.”

“Have time if we not get call.”

“Of course.”

Someone says something off screen and Geno glances away from the phone for a second. “Guys want say hi, is okay? Can say no.”

It’s almost as though they’re Sid’s friends too now, because Geno talks about them so often, and Sid has seen so many videos. It would be nice to actually, officially, say hi.

“Sure.”

Geno rolls his eyes in the exaggerated way he does, making Sid laugh despite himself, and then everything is a bit easier. For a minute or two, Geno (impatiently) sweeps his phone from one guy to another, off-handedly introducing them to Sid. None of them seem surprised to see him, so he can’t be Geno’s secret friend.

“I’m call to say you should take tea and relax for a bit,” Geno says when he’s stepped out of the communal kitchen and turns the phone camera back on himself again. “But I see you already do.”

“I don’t have energy for anything else right now.”

“Is okay,” Geno says. “Sometimes we not have energy, and that is okay.”

“Thank you for saying that.” Sid sighs and hugs the blanket tighter to his body. “Sometimes I wish you didn’t live so far away.”

Geno’s gaze warms as he looks into the camera lens. “Me too.”

Taking a slow breath, Sid sorts through the sudden roll of anxiety in his stomach, before he says, “Maybe, when I’m doing better, I could come see you?”

Geno’s smile is small, but somehow still blinding. Something private, just for Sid. “Would love. Maybe is easier if I come see you first? Or is more difficult?”

Considering that for a second, Sid bites his lip. “I think that could work well.”

“You can show me dock. We fish. You cook, I sleep.”

With a laugh, Sid shakes his head. “You have it all planned.”

Geno taps his temple and smirks. “More smart than you think.”

“I know you’re smart,” Sid says and smiles. “I’d love to have you.”

“We plan later.” Someone says something off camera again and Geno looks up. “Have to go. Call you tonight?”

“Okay. Have a good day at work.”

“Bye Sid.”

Morgan always says that there will be setbacks. That some of them might be bigger than others, that they might feel like he’s getting worse than he was, but that’s just his brain lying to him. So when Sid wakes up two days later and everything seems grey, dull and uninteresting, and he’s drained of any ounce of energy, he tries to tell himself that it’s expected.

It’s just so terrifying being in this hopeless hole, when he’s trapped down here so suddenly. Before, he barely knew it was happening and he acclimatized without even knowing so himself. It’s different now when he remembers having energy just a few days ago. He can tell the difference between his own disinterest in everything today, and how he looked forward to going outside last Monday.

“Fuck,” he whispers under his breath, and curls in on himself, pressing his face against the pillow.

 _It’ll pass,_ he tells himself. _Setbacks are normal._

He lies in bed all day and ignores his phone that buzzes with incoming messages on occasion. For the first time in weeks, the vibration causes him a sense of stress. It’s not until late evening, when he’s only gotten out of bed to use the bathroom and then stumbled back in, when there’s a call.

Glancing at the display, he can see Geno’s name. What if Geno will be disappointed in him if he sees Sid like this?

 _He’s seen worse_ , Sid thinks. _He’s_ been _worse._

He accepts the call and angles the camera towards his face. It’s barely visible over the edge of his duvet.

“Hi,” he says.

Geno looks at him for a moment. “Bad day?”

“Yeah.” Sid takes a breath. “The worst in a long time.”

“I’m sorry,” Geno says. “You eat today?”

“No.”

“Shower?”

“No.”

Geno nods. “Can do something for me?”

Frowning to himself, Sid wants to say no, but Geno wouldn’t ask anything unreasonable from him. Before, when he was completely on his own, his routine had him going on auto-pilot. “Okay.”

Geno smiles then. “First, brush teeth, okay?”

“I can do that.” He needs to use the bathroom again anyway.

“You want second task now, or after brush teeth?”

That completely depends on what it is, but Geno wouldn’t ask if it didn’t require an effort from Sid. “After.”

“Okay.” Geno jerks his chin, as if to say _get going, then_ and Sid sighs.

“I’ll mute you but I won’t hang up.”

“I wait.”

Something warm settles in Sid’s stomach. He knows that Geno will wait if he says so. It doesn’t matter if it takes Sid twenty minutes to brush his teeth, or five. He mutes the call and manages to drag himself out of bed. The lack of food has left him feeling weak and clammy, but the low level nausea makes him cringe at the idea of eating.

He uses the bathroom and brushes his teeth, just like Geno told him to. Spitting the toothpaste in the sink, Sid sighs to himself. He was supposed to get better, and now he can’t even take care of himself. Fuck.

His gut swirls with worry when he grabs his phone from the bed and unmutes the call. “I’m back.”

Geno’s face shows up then, a little blurry at first, before the camera can focus. “Ready for next task?”

“Not really,” Sid confesses.

“Can do it anyway?”

Sid sighs again. “Probably.”

“Okay, go to kitchen and take phone with you.”

His legs are heavy and without strength, and Sid would rather curl up in bed again. However, right now, he knows that Geno looks after him better than he’s looking after himself.

“Okay,” he says and takes his time making his way down the stairs.

“Light head?” Geno asks when Sid pauses in the middle of the staircase.

“A bit,” he admits.

“You need sit down?”

“I think it’s okay.” Sid takes a deep breath and focuses on the next step ahead. “I’ll go slow.”

“Be careful.”

Finally in the kitchen, he leans against the counter and nods at the front camera on his phone. “I’m here.”

“Can show me content of fridge?” Geno asks.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Just ask you show me what’s in fridge,” Geno says, his voice gentle.

That’s definitely bullshit, but Sid doesn’t have any energy to argue, so he opens the fridge and switches to the back camera. His fridge is well stocked, but the majority are ingredients for more complicated meals.

“Is yoghurt?” Geno asks and points somewhere on his own screen.

Sid squints at his fridge. There’s a bucket of quark on the middle shelf. “Kind of.”

“Healthy?” Geno asks.

“Lots of protein.”

“Take spoon, eat little bit.”

“I don’t want to,” Sid protests.

“Only two spoon.” Geno isn’t angry and he doesn’t even sound harsh, but there’s not a lot of room for argument here. He has a lot more energy than Sid too, and it’s not like he has that many great reasons for not eating. “Already down here anyway. Spoon close too, and you not have to use plate. Can eat from bucket.”

“Alright.” Sid digs out a spoon from the cutlery drawer and puts the bucket of quark on the counter. “Just two.”

Quark isn’t that tasty without berries, but Sid has eaten worse in his life. The second spoon is easier than the first, and the hollowness at the pit of his stomach fades slightly.

“Okay?” Geno asks.

“That’s two,” Sid says.

“Good job.”

Glancing down at the phone that’s laying next to the bucket on the counter, Sid can see Geno smiling.

“I can probably do one more.” Sid looks down in the bucket again and sighs to himself. He probably shouldn’t eat straight from the bucket—it can’t be healthy to put a used spoon in there—but he digs out another scoop and swallows it down in one go.

“Proud of you,” Geno says and his tone tells Sid that he means it, too. “When you put bucket back, you take two banana from glass drawer. Take to bedroom and put on side table, okay?”

“Alright.” It’s a good idea. If he wakes up hungry, he doesn’t have to go downstairs again. When he grabs the bananas, his gaze falls on the stacked bottles of water and Gatorade. He’s probably dehydrated so just a bit of water will help a lot tomorrow. Gatorade is a good quick fix. He grabs one of each, and manages to balance them, the bananas, his phone and himself upstairs again.

“You do great,” Geno says, his face radiating such sincerity even over FaceTime that Sid _has_ to believe him. “You want do something more or you want sleep?”

A shower is probably what he needs, but he’s beat and he did shower yesterday, so it’s not like he reeks or anything.

“I want to talk to you.” Sid clears his throat. “If you have time.”

“Have time.” Geno leans back on his now-familiar couch. “Early work tomorrow, so I’m have to sleep at nine.”

“You don’t have to stay up for me,” Sid protests.

“I go to bed usual time. I’m just tell you now so you know before it’s time. Before bed I love talk to you.”

Sid takes a breath, his brain searching for something to feel bad over here, but Geno seems to have effectively plugged those holes shut. “Thank you.”

“Not have to thank.” Geno smiles straight into the camera, at _Sid_. “I’m only talk with you because is something I love, not for be nice only. Today you need extra support from me and I’m happy to give when I’m do good myself. While back I need extra from you. It’s go both ways.”

“I’m happy that I have you,” Sid says as he crawls into bed and pulls the duvet up to his chin. “I felt a lot more alone before. I know I have lots of other friends, but if it wasn’t for you, I probably wouldn’t have talked to them about how I’m doing. Plus, I got to know you as well.”

“I’m lot of fun guy to know,” Geno agrees and Sid giggles into his pillow. It’s that awful laugh he’s tried to suppress for years, but sometimes it slips out. It’s less horrible than his goose laugh anyway.

“See, already laugh cute,” Geno points out, because of course he has to notice. “If you friend with Phil you never laugh, I’m promise. He _worst_.”

Somehow, Sid manages to fall asleep before Geno has to go to bed. The next morning, he wakes up to bleak sunlight filtering through his curtains and sighs. He’s hungry, but his body is heavy and weak, and he has no will to make himself go downstairs and make breakfast. _Shit_. He was supposed to feel better today. While he doesn’t notice any of the telltale signs of an impending anxiety attack, it’s as though a thick, heavy cloak of grey nothingness has wrapped itself around him, weighing him down.

Reaching out for his phone, there are two messages from Geno waiting for him.

**> Sleep good. Tomorrow is new day ))**

**> I go in for work now. Tell me if you need something from me**

Right now, Sid wants him here. He wants Geno to talk him through this shithole and lead him out of it. That’s not how it works though, he knows that. If anything, he needs to find his way out himself. It was easier last night when he had some company, when he wasn’t all alone and Geno could tell him there’s something worth seeing behind all of this smog. Right now, he’s just lost.

**< Thank you for keeping me company last night**

It’s early morning when he checks the time on his phone, but Geno has already been at work for a couple of hours at least. He saves lives for a living, and here’s Sid, feeling shitty over not being able to play hockey for another ten years, like he planned.

It’s fucking ridiculous.

Pushing his thoughts away, he finds the YouTube app on his phone and finds the right channel. Since he can’t talk to Geno, he can always rewatch some of the videos. He eats the bananas he brought upstairs yesterday for breakfast and drinks the Gatorade. It’s hard to get it all down, but it numbs the worst of his nausea and it’s what his body needs.

He watches Geno and the guys he works with compete in different, ridiculous tournaments that they’ve created, and things are okay for a bad day. It’s always something. Geno texts him around lunch again.

**> How you feel today?**

For a moment, Sid considers pretending that he’s doing better, but he can hear Morgan’s words from the last session as an echo in his mind: _“An important part of getting better is acknowledging and being honest when you’re doing worse.”_

**< It’s less bad **

Geno’s reply is immediate.

**> You want company?**

**< Sure, let me know when you’re home from work. If I don’t reply immediately, I might’ve fallen asleep for a bit again**

He should tell Geno that he doesn’t have to do this, but Geno wouldn’t offer if it wasn’t something he wanted to do. There’s a longer pause before Geno replies this time.

**> Home in one hour. Call you on video when I’m home**

Sid blinks. He’s pretty sure that Geno tends to work at _least_ 24 hour shifts, if not more. He worked yesterday and then again today. He shouldn’t be home after only eight hours or so.

Dragging a hand over his hair, Sid winces. It’s greasy under his palm and it’s going to show when Geno calls him. He checks in with himself, but after eating and drinking some, he should have enough energy for a short shower and brushing his teeth.

It’s slow work, but after brushing his teeth, he manages to rinse his hair and soap up his body. It takes forever and he’s more drained than after a long playoff run, when he stumbles out of the shower and wraps himself in a towel just as Geno calls him.

“Hi,” Sid says, thumbing at his phone where it’s lying on the sink counter, attempting to accept the call. The screen fills mostly with his still-wet torso and his chin. “I just need to dry off.”

Geno blinks at the phone and then averts his gaze. “Yes, okay.”

Pulling on fresh underwear and rubbing a towel over his hair to keep it from drenching the pillows, Sid grabs his phone on the way back to bed, stumbling over his own feet.

“You shower?” Geno asks him, smiling slightly.

“Yeah.” Sid heaves a sigh and avoids looking at the tiny frame of himself in favor of looking at Geno. He’s wearing a soft, grey hoodie and his hair is tousled. “And now I feel like I could just zone out for a week.”

“Still bad day?”

“Yeah.” Biting his lip, Sid sighs again. “I think it’s better than yesterday. I could shower and brush my teeth.”

“That’s good, Sid.” Geno smiles wider. “Proud of you.”

Helplessly, Sid smiles back. “Thank you.”

“You eat something?”

“The bananas I brought with me yesterday.”

“Drink?”

“Gatorade.”

Geno nods to himself. “Is good first step.”

“You had a short day today?” It comes out as a question, even though Sid meant it as a statement.

“I take half vacation day.”

“Why?”

Geno smiles again, but this time it looks sheepish. “Want be here for you today.”

“Geno,” Sid starts to protest, but before he can continue, Geno cuts him off.

“I have lots of vacation. We have lots of guys today, so no problem. I’m suppose to be free last week, but Cully has sick kid so he home. I take his shift. Today he cover for me half day.”

“I’m not great company,” Sid says, hoping to distract himself from the huge thing that’s growing in his chest.

“Always great company,” Geno disagrees. “We hang out in bed today?”

“Um.” Sid grabs the edge of his pillow and pulls it down towards his chin. “I guess.”

Nodding, Geno takes Sid through his apartment. He’s seen bits and pieces of it before; Geno’s exposed brick walls, the small kitchen with dull green cabinets and string shelves instead of the upper ones, hosting a collection of different plates, mugs, glasses and bowls. He’s seen the small living room too, with the couch that’s been featured in many YouTube videos and the large windows.

However, Sid has never seen Geno’s bedroom, so he takes in whatever he can see over Geno’s shoulder. There’s another large window there, and heavy curtains. It looks minimalistic, with a few framed photos and more or less nothing else.

“I’ve never seen your bedroom before,” Sid says when Geno’s face shows up on the screen again.

“Not a lot to see,” Geno says with a shrug. “My place really small.”

“It looks nice.”

“Not home so much, so I’m not need lots of space.” Geno seems to hesitate then. “I’m not have lots of stuff. After ex and I break up, I keep half of everything. I get couch, he take bed, you know how it work—”

Sid doesn’t really, because his ex girlfriends have always moved in with him in Pittsburgh and filled the additional walk-in closet. After breaking up, they’d just cleaned the space out and maybe taken a couple of decorative couch cushions with them. The rest was always his.

“—So I get new bed, because I need bed, but no room for both dinner and kitchen table, so I’m just put dinner table in kitchen. Easy.”

“I like it,” Sid says.

Geno smiles, before his face grows serious. “Sid, I’m want do something for you and I know you not want, but please let me.”

Frowning, Sid buries deeper under his duvet. “What is it?”

“I send you dinner, okay? Easy for eat in bed, we hang out, watch movie maybe? But I worry when you not eat, Sid. You so big, lots of muscle and it need food. I worry you get hurt if you not eat.”

“Geno,” Sid protests, his pulse picking up. “You don’t have to send me food. If you’re that worried I’m sure I can make something easy in half an hour or so.”

Geno’s stubborn expression softens, as though he’s expected Sid to refuse. Like he can _ever_ refuse when Geno worries. “Today I send food. Tomorrow you cook, okay?”

He could argue, but Geno is just looking after him. If he’s honest with himself, it does seem rather great if he could just go downstairs and accept food without having to order it, or cook it himself.

“Okay,” he says. “Thank you.”

“I pick best food,” Geno says immediately and Sid watches him get immersed in whatever’s on his laptop. “Not fall asleep. I’m need address from you.”

Sid curls up on his side and balances his phone against another pillow in front of him. As he looks at Geno, something warm and comfortable spreads through his chest. “I won’t fall asleep.”

They spend all afternoon and evening in bed—in different beds, in different cities, in different countries, but still together—with the occasional bathroom break and when Geno needs to make dinner. Sid eats everything Geno has ordered for him over the course of several hours and little by little some strength returns to his body. When Geno gets frustrated with the movie they’re watching together on TV, Sid laughs so hard his stomach hurts. He’d forgotten what that feels like.

“I really wish you were here,” Sid hears himself say sometime past midnight, when the movie is long since over and Geno has been telling him about his childhood for the past hour. While Sid’s family was never well off, and even struggled to pay their mortgages when he was a kid, he’s quite sure it can’t compare with growing up poor in a Russian industrial city, living in a one-bedroom apartment as a family of four.

“You still want I come visit?” Geno asks. He’s all rumpled from spending the day in bed, but his gaze is as warm as ever, giving Sid a sense of safety. There’s always that warmth there, an obvious care for Sid, even when Geno is teasing him relentlessly.

“I would love to have you here.” Sid stretches out his legs. “I don’t know what kind of headspace I’ll be in, but no matter if I’m feeling like shit, I would love to have you. It’s more than okay if you don’t want to visit when I’m like this, though.”

“Have best day in long time,” Geno says, shaking his head. “Not be so hard on yourself. You great person, good company, without lots of effort. If you need we hang out in bed for two day when I’m there, then we do. Is probably best two days in bed for me.”

Sid hides his smile behind the duvet, but he’s quite sure his eyes are giving him away. “Okay.”

Tonight, Geno falls asleep first, but there’s just warm comfort lingering with Sid in the silence of his bedroom, as he ends the call on Geno’s soft snores, and sends him a goodnight text.

He’ll work out tomorrow. Something light and easy, but it’ll get his endorphins going. Then he’ll call Morgan for an express session. He can get through this too.

+    +    +

It’s a couple of weeks later when Geno calls him from work.

“I find flight tickets,” he says and wipes his forehead with a towel. It looks like he’s just come off a workout.

“Okay.” Sid pinches off a dead leaf from his geranium and tosses it in the compost. “Send me the information and I’ll get the tickets for you.”

“Not have to buy me ticket,” Geno says and clenches his jaw. It’s the third time they’re having this discussion in as many days.

“I know, but I want to.” Sid sighs at the stubborn expression on Geno’s face. “Please. It’s kind of like when you ordered food for me. I want to do this for you. Um, it would mean a lot to me.”

“Fine,” Geno mutters. “I send information later.”

There’s a loud bang on the other end and Geno jerks, attention drawn to whatever’s happening on his end of the call. There’s another loud bang and someone swearing up a storm. It can’t be that serious, though, because Geno starts laughing. It’s so loud, deep from the belly, and his smile turns huge, twisting something in Sid’s chest so hard that he loses his breath.

He stares at Geno on the screen of his phone with his heartbeat picking up in frequency with every second that passes. There’s Geno laughing himself sick. And Sid is in love with him.

“I have to go,” Sid manages, but Geno doesn’t seem to notice that’s something’s off. “I’ll call you later.”

Geno is still laughing too hard to get a word out, so he waves absently to the camera.

After hanging up, Sid stares down at the phone in his hands. _Fuck._

Sitting down on a kitchen chair, Sid leans forward, pushing his head between his knees and breathes. It’s been a while since he felt this lightheaded and close to a panic attack, but for once, there’s a tangible reason for it.

Geno has quickly become one of his closest friends. They talk about everything and he’s someone Sid would trust with his darkest secrets. Maybe he should have expected this, but it came out of left field without warning, realization slapping him hard in the face.

He _can’t_ be in love with Geno.

As soon as his breathing is under control, he calls Flower.

“Sid?”

“I’ve fucked it up.”

“Let me go to a different room, just a second.”

Sid hears him exchange a few sentences in French with Vero, before there’s the sound of a door closing.

“Alright, what happened?”

Sid tries to keep it short. Everything from how he got to know Geno, to his realization today, but there are a lot of things that Flower needs to know for any of this to make sense. However, for someone who’s usually so impatient and easily bored, Flower listens intently and asks a few questions for clarification.

“And now you realize that you’re in love with him?” Flower asks when Sid trails off.

“Yeah.”

“Why’s that an issue?”

Sid opens his mouth, but hesitates. “Well, um, our friendship.”

“Just for the record, I don’t know Geno at all, but there are few people in the world except for Vero that I would spend so much time with. You, maybe, but that leads me to my next point. If you told me that you’re in love with me—” Flower ignores Sid’s sound of protest over how ridiculous that idea even is. “—I wouldn’t let it affect our friendship. So if you’re that close, and Geno _doesn’t_ have feelings for you as well, which I suspect that he does, I’m sure he won’t let it ruin anything.”

“You can’t know that.” Sid sighs. “He’s a really brave person. I’m sure he would’ve told me if that’s the case.”

“He could be equally stupid as you, or maybe he has insecurities that stops him from saying anything to you about how he feels.”

Geno is so confident and Sid can’t picture him being afraid of taking the first step, but then he remembers what Geno told him a while back. How he’s having trouble finding someone because everything is so sex focused.

“We’re planning for him to come visit me,” Sid says.

“When?”

“At the end of June, when he’s on vacation from work.” Sid swallows. “Should I tell him when he’s here?”

“If you’re worried about him reacting badly, I figure it’s maybe better to tell him now, so you can both pretend something else came up that made his trip to you impossible.”

“How can I even be in love with someone I’ve never met?”

Flower snorts. “Judging from what you just told me, I think you spend more time with him than you ever did with any of you ex girlfriends, or than any of us do with our wives. There are different kinds of intimacy.”

“You were supposed to tell me that I’m delusional and that this is bullshit.”

“I think he’s good for you.”

“I know.” Sid looks down at his hand where he’s holding onto the kitchen counter. “I guess I’ll just have to come clean.”

“Let me know how it went. I can come over there and spend a few days with you if you need it.”

“Can’t you do that anyways?” Sid sighs. “Like bring the kids and stuff. I miss you guys.”

“We’d love to, as long as you have the energy to deal with them.”

“I might need some space to recharge maybe, but we’ll work it out.”

Flower is quiet for a long moment, before he says, “You’ve come a long way. That’s great, Sid.”

Later, after hanging up, he has a text from Geno waiting for him. It’s a photograph of one of his coworkers—Phil maybe?—sitting in a toppled-over laundry cart, looking incredibly pissed off. That explains the loud bangs and the swearing. Sid smiles. He can understand why Geno laughed so hard.

Worry clenches in his stomach then. Flower is right, it’s better if he tells Geno now, than put them both in a situation where they have to awkwardly hang out for almost two weeks if Geno doesn’t take his confession well.

 _Just because he’s gay doesn’t mean he wants you_ , Sid thinks to himself. He has to be realistic here. His plan is to get back to some kind of social life, and it probably won’t be up here. If he wants to work with something related to hockey, then he’ll have to do appearances. Maybe that’s not the life Geno would pick for himself. He has his job and his life in New York. Sid can’t exactly just expect him to pack up and move. Shaking his head, he stops his thoughts from running away from him. He doesn’t even have to think about this at all if Geno isn’t interested. It’s an issue for later.

**< When do you get off work?**

**> Six in morning tomorrow**

**< Call me when you’re home, ** Sid hesitates with his thumbs over the screen. **I need to talk to you about something.**

**> Is serious? **

Okay, so that was definitely a bad way to put it. That sentence can give anyone anxiety.

**< No need to worry! Sorry, I phrased it wrong. It’s about the trip, so I figure it’s better if we talk when you get home, before you sleep? Booking the tickets and all that.**

**> Okay I call )) **

**< Be careful today, **Sid sends without thinking. One of his ex girlfriends used to worry about him whenever there was a game, and Sid couldn’t understand her then, but now, knowing that Geno risks his life almost every day, he can’t help but understand where she came from. Even though being a firefighter is decidedly a lot riskier than playing professional hockey, Sid can’t stop thinking about that Swedish player who was permanently paralyzed from the chest down. In comparison, he’s been lucky that it was his knee.

He goes for a run to keep himself from overthinking, and then prepares food boxes to put in the freezer. He can’t rely on Geno sending him food, so this is the next best thing in case he’s ever too low to cook again. Being hungry and energy drained only makes that part worse.

He preps a few portion sized boxes for protein smoothies as well, so that he can just empty them in the mixer and have a quick breakfast if necessary.

Later, when he’s dozing on the couch in front of the TV, he gets a text from Geno.

**> How is evening?**

Sid smiles down at his phone.

**< Good, I’m just watching TV. How’s work?**

**> Slow, we have information for school today. Was lot of fun! **

He thinks back on Little Penguins and his own summer hockey school. He’s said no for two years straight now, but maybe he can start it back up sometime in the future.

**< Do you like meeting the kids?**

**> Best part with job! They always love truck, borrow my helmet and they ask so fun questions**

Sid can imagine Geno letting kids use his equipment, teasing them just enough for them to feel seen and teaching them all the important parts of fire safety.

**< I bet they loved having you there too**

**> I’m best with kids )))**

**< According to you, you’re the best at everything**

Sid wants to roll his eyes, but Geno’s confidence, borderline cockiness is one of the things that Sid really likes about him. Which is maybe annoying in itself, because he doesn’t _want_ to like it.

**> Also best at tell truth**

Sid snorts to himself and actually does roll his eyes this time.

**< I’m going to bed. Maybe tone that ego down until tomorrow morning, or I won’t pick up when you call**

**> You always pick up when I call **

**< Goodnight Geno**

**> Sleep good. Tomorrow I tell you everything I’m best at**

A grin spreads over his face before he can stop it. Geno is such a dick. Hopefully that won’t change when Sid comes clean tomorrow morning. He swallows down the nervous nausea that bubbles up in his throat. It _is_ possible things will go wrong tomorrow, but the risk of that is worth it for the chance of them going right.

He wakes up several times during the night, checking the time on his phone, but it’s always too early to get up. That’s probably why he’s too exhausted to wake by his alarm, but instead by Geno calling him an hour later.

Accepting the video call, Sid blinks blearily at the phone and belatedly realizes he’s _on the phone_.

“Hi sleepy,” Geno says, smiling. He looks wide awake and Sid can hear him dump his bag on the floor.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” Sid groans and rubs a hand over his face. His voice is all creaky and rough. “I was supposed to wake up an hour ago.”

“No worry, all cute like this.”

Warmth spreads through his limbs like hot liquid, and he stares at Geno’s smile for a long moment before he remembers that he’s supposed to say something. “How was work?”

“Good. It’s calm night, so we play some games, clean.” Geno shrugs. “How you feel?”

It hits Sid then, like a freight train smacking into his side out of nowhere. He needs to come clean.

“Sid,” Geno says, frowning at the screen. “What is wrong?”

Swallowing, his mouth dry like sand, Sid tries smiling but Geno’s frown only deepens.

“I have to tell you something,” Sid manages. “I was supposed to wake up early and prepare, you know? But, um, well that didn’t happen.”

“What you need to tell me?”

Taking in Geno’s face and the worried frown he’s now wearing, Sid clenches his free hand and closes his eyes. _You can do this,_ he tells himself, even though the bottom of his stomach seems to have dropped out of him.

“Sid?”

“I’m in love with you,” Sid blurts and opens his eyes again. Geno looks like he’s been slapped. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to happen, but I felt like I had to tell you before you came for a visit. I wanted you to have an out. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

It doesn’t seem like Geno can even hear him right now.

“I’m sorry,” Sid tries again, his pulse picking up. “Geno?”

Blinking, Geno’s gaze focuses on the phone in front of him again. “Why you _sorry?_ ”

Sid licks his lips, swallowing again. “Because I know...I know it’s not what this is about? It kind of just happened. I didn’t plan on it.”

“I think is how love works,” Geno says and he’s got that fond-yet-frustrated expression that usually comes out when Sid is being unreasonable about something. “It’s just happen and you can’t plan.”

Sid opens his mouth to protest, but honestly, that’s not what’s important here. “Still, I’m sorry.”

“Why you not ask how I feel?” Tilting his head to the side, Geno watches the screen in silence for a moment. “I’m think you should.”

“Uh, okay.” Sid can’t really wrap his head around that. “How do you feel?”

To his surprise, Geno’s expression grows incredibly soft and his smile is one Sid hasn’t seen before. He sits down somewhere, probably on his couch by the familiar looks of the room around him, and leans forward with an elbow on his knee. It’s the least flattering angle Sid can imagine, but his heart is beating so hard that he can’t even think.

“I’m in love with you too.” Geno glances away, and if Sid’s eyes aren’t betraying him, he looks a little embarrassed. “I think since months.”

“You thi—what— _Geno_.” Sid wants to tear at his own hair. “Why didn’t you tell me?!”

Geno shrugs and keeps his gaze down.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Sid asks again, making his voice softer.

Letting out a sigh, Geno shrugs once more. “I have problems and I know you know, so I think Sid so great, he want someone who can give everything he want.”

Frowning, Sid leans closer to the camera. “What are you talking about?”

“You not remember my problems?”

“No, I remember,” Sid hurries. “But you have everything I want.”

“Sid,” Geno says softly.

“I told you once that you’re amazing and anyone would be lucky to have you, remember?”

“Yes.” Geno rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling now.

“That includes me.”

Shaking his head, as if in disbelief, Geno’s eyes are bright when he looks into the camera again. “Can’t believe you feel same.”

 _Oh,_ it hits Sid then—they really _do_ feel the same for each other. Sid blinks at his phone and then startles a laugh.

+    +    +

It’s late June when Sid pulls his cap lower over his eyes in the Halifax airport. He’s early, but the last thing he wants is for Geno to have to wait.

The cap won’t keep him from getting recognized so close to home, but it does tell the people around him that he isn’t too interested in taking photos or writing autographs right now. They’ve always been protective of him here, respecting his privacy.

It’s a short flight, only a couple of hours, since they managed to find one without stops and they spoke on the phone just this morning before Geno left for the airport.

Nervousness crawls under his skin, but he breathes through it. _This is normal_ , he tells himself. Meeting Geno for the first time is a huge deal.

The board on the wall updates, and Geno’s flight’s status has changed to _landed_. Logically, it will take a while for Geno to get off the plane and through customs, Sid knows this, but he can’t help but stare at the doors all the same.

It takes longer than he expects, but then people start trickling through the doors, and Sid holds his breath. _There_. Swallowing, Sid’s gaze finds Geno immediately when he steps through the doors. He’s so tall and it hits Sid then that he hasn’t had a clue about Geno’s height until now.

He’s considering waving to catch Geno’s attention when Geno’s gaze finds him, and his face splits into a huge grin. Sid’s heart almost stops and then takes off at high speed.

Geno hoists his bag up over his shoulder and Sid pushes the brim of his cap back, unable to hide his own smile. When Geno stops in front of him, Sid has to look up at him to keep eye contact and impossibly, Geno’s eyes are even warmer in person.

“Hi,” Sid manages.

“Hi Sid.” Geno’s gaze falls to his mouth and Sid wouldn’t say no to a kiss right now, but then Geno straightens and nods towards the exist. “We go? Get recognized soon.”

“I’m sure they’ve already noticed me.” Sid shrugs. “They’re just being respectful.”

“I’m not talk about you,” Geno says and the familiar smirk tells Sid where this is going even before he continues. “I’m most famous YouTuber, maybe they go crazy when they see?”

Rolling his eyes, Sid snorts. “Of course, I didn’t think about that. Let’s go.”

People’s eyes are on them as they leave, perhaps assuming that Geno is a hockey player they should recognize, given his height and build. They load Geno’s bag in the trunk and a rush of excitement floods through Sid as he climbs into the driver’s seat.

“Did you have a good flight?” he asks as soon as Geno has buckled in.

“Fast,” Geno says as a way of agreeing. “So nervous.”

“Me too,” Sid confesses. “I’m glad we’re on our way home.”

“Is long ride?”

“Fifteen minutes, tops.”

“My first time in Canada, too.”

Sid glances over to Geno who’s looking over at him. “Yeah?”

“U.S. is so big, can do all kind of vacation there, you know?”

“That’s true.” Sid chews his lip. “If you want, maybe we can go to a few places while you’re here?”

“We see,” Geno says easily. “We do what we want. Maybe we want be in your house all time, then we do. Maybe we want go see other things, then we do.”

“Sounds good.”

“There was most annoying lady on flight,” Geno says with a heavy sigh.

Laughing, Sid concentrates on the road ahead. “Tell me.”

Later, when he pulls into the driveway, his nervousness comes back. “So, this is it.”

Geno looks over at him. “I have to stay in car?”

Sid bites his lip to hide his smile, as he climbs out of the driver’s side door. “Yeah, if you don’t behave.”

In reality, Geno’s teasing makes this a lot easier, but he doesn’t need to know that. He grabs Geno’s bag from the trunk and locks the car when Geno has closed the door behind him.

“This nice,” he says, looking around.

From here, Geno can’t see much of the lake or anything, but the lawn is nice and green, and his entire property is quite secluded.

“I made lunch before I went to pick you up, so we can reheat it maybe and eat outside?”

“Lunch is good, I’m so hungry.”

He’s just put the chicken in the oven when Geno comes back downstairs after putting his bag away and using the bathroom to freshen up. To Sid’s surprise, Geno cups his face in both his hands and the expression on his face makes Sid’s chest too full.

“I see you in airport and I’m want to kiss you, but not sure if I can in front of people.”

“I don’t care if people know.” Sid stares up at him. “I want them to know. You’re important to me. They should know that.”

Geno leans in, as if to kiss him, but then hesitates. “Okay?”

Instead of replying, Sid stretches up, pressing their lips together, and for once his brain goes completely silent. Geno’s mouth is soft and he kisses Sid with a confidence that makes Sid’s knees a little weak.

“You’re really tall,” Sid blurts when they pull apart.

“No,” Geno says and smirks. “You just small.”

They spend the afternoon on the back patio. After finishing lunch, Sid makes them coffee and Geno stretches out his long legs with his feet resting on another lawn chair. Sid can’t even remember exactly what they talk about, because it’s everything and nothing at the same time, but he’s somehow both calm and bursting with energy.

They make dinner together and curl up on the couch afterwards, semi-watching TV but mostly talking. Geno kisses him again then, a hand on Sid’s waist and the other stretched out along the backrest of the couch.

“Want to talk about something,” Geno says after pulling away.

“Okay?”

Geno looks away for a moment, in a way that Sid now associates with him taking care to find the right words for what he wants to say, so he waits and fiddles with the hem of Geno’s henley.

“You want have sex with me?” Geno asks and Sid can feel his eyes go wide.

_“Now?”_

Geno shakes his head. “No, later when I’m here. Maybe when you visit me. I’m not ask for specific date, is more like, you think you want at some point?”

Sid blinks. “Oh, like in general?”

“Yes.” Geno watches him carefully. “I know, with depression and anxiety, is not always like interest is there until mental health is better, but for some people interest for sex is never there.”

“Yeah, no, I—I’m not asexual. ” Sid hesitates. “And I’m definitely interested in having sex with you, but I’m okay with being without sex if that’s not something you want.”

“I want,” Geno says. “But sometimes it not work out.”

“I know that.” Sid bites his lip. “Is there anything I can do to make it easier? I mean, if it happens?”

“More like _when_ happens,” Geno sighs and Sid has to kiss him just a little, because he looks like he needs some reassuring.

“Okay, so what should I do when it happens?”

Shrugging, Geno looks away. “I’m maybe not most comfortable with getting blow job or you fuck me, not first thing we do. If I fuck you—not know if you like that, is okay if you not—and I’m not stay hard, maybe I’m use fingers instead.”

“That’s fine,” Sid says and does his best to sound casual, even though he’s warm all over. It’s been a long time since he felt like this and he’s almost forgotten how overwhelming it can be. “So I shouldn’t put too much focus on it?”

“Yeah, I deal with myself and it feel better if we move on to other thing.” Geno looks away again. “I do my best make it good for you.”

“I don’t doubt that.” Sid’s throat feels thick all of a sudden. “I’m more worried about making it good for you.”

“I think if I’m do myself first, jerk off maybe, or if it work I fuck you, in future you can maybe blow me.” Geno’s gaze snaps back to him. “If you want. Don’t have to do if you don’t like.”

“No, I’m definitely up for you fucking me or blowing you.” Sid licks his lips and Geno’s gaze darkens, tracking the movement. “I really want that, when you’re there.”

“I think maybe you kill me first,” Geno says and kisses him, harder than before. He reaches down and holds Sid’s hand against his torso, before he pulls away. “Is not pretty, but I want you for see me.”

Geno pulls up the bottom of his shirt and Sid watches his face for a second before he looks down. The scarred tissue there is a broad stripe, maybe as wide as Sid’s palm and it stretches around Geno’s side. The skin is uneven, and a little off in color compared to the rest of Geno’s stomach, but it’s nothing Sid didn’t expect.

“Does it hurt?” Sid asks.

“Not now. First year hurt a lot, now is good. Can’t be out in sun without shirt, because skin so sensitive. Sometime it’s uncomfortable when I get a lot warm and sweaty, but it not hurt.”

“Do you find it uncomfortable if I touch you there? I mean, should I avoid it?”

Geno takes his hand again and holds Sid’s palm against the scarred tissue. It’s bumpy and different underneath his hand. “No, can touch. Not have to if you not want.”

“I like touching you,” Sid says and slides his palm up Geno’s side and then down again. “I can’t say I don’t worry about you getting hurt again, though.”

“More careful now,” Geno says and slides his hand up Sid’s thigh. “I learn from mistake, and love my job.”

“I know,” Sid tugs Geno’s shirt down and kisses him for a long moment. “I wouldn’t ask you to quit.”

Geno pulls him closer and Sid leans into him.

“Little bit tired,” Geno says against his hair. “We go to bed?”

It’s a relief that Geno doesn’t seem to even consider sleeping in the guestroom. They’ve been sharing a bed for months over video calls, and Sid wants him there physically too.

After getting ready side by side in the bathroom, Sid waits in bed for Geno to climb in on the other side. He’s just in his underwear and Sid lets himself indulge, taking in the hard muscle of Geno’s upper body, the width of his biceps and the round swell of his ass. He’s not as stocky as Sid, but it’s obvious that he needs to keep very fit for his job.

“You like?” Geno asks and when Sid looks up, he’s smirking.

“Yeah.”

Geno leans over him then, one knee on the mattress, and kisses him before he pushes the duvet down slightly, his gaze trailing over Sid’s body. “Look so good. I remember I see you one time after you shower and I’m have to look away, or you know how I’m in love with you.”

Hearing him say that, face to face, makes Sid lose his breath and he pulls Geno down to kiss him again, a little desperate this time.

“I’m glad you still feel that way.”

“Can’t believe you think I’m stop,” Geno says in disbelief and Sid has to kiss him once more.

He falls asleep with kiss-swollen lips and with Geno pressed against him.

+    +    +

They fall into their own sort of routine. In the morning, they work out together. Either in Sid’s home gym, or heading into town. Geno has an upper body strength that Sid can’t quite match, especially now when he doesn’t have to stay as fit as he did when he still played, but Sid still has his legs even if he needs to be extra careful with his knee.

That night, Geno makes them dinner while Sid meditates in the living room. His mind has been all over the place today, fast and slow at the same time, ready to take off at any second.

He’s centered when the guiding voice trails off in his app and he looks out the window, over the lake, for a while. He can hear Geno moving around in the kitchen, not making unnecessary noise, but not trying to make himself unnoticeable either.

Geno is chopping vegetables by the counter, wearing faded jeans and a grey t-shirt. There’s nothing special about it, but Sid’s heart is suddenly so full that he can barely breathe.

“Hey,” he says, stepping up behind Geno, wrapping his arms around his waist and resting his forehead against Geno’s shoulder.

Geno pauses his chopping and reaches down, stroking Sid’s arm. “How’s meditate?”

“Good.” Sid breathes him in, the now-familiar smell of his skin. “How’s dinner going? Need help?”

“Can check on salmon,” Geno says and resumes chopping when Sid moves away from him. “You want wine?”

It’s late when they finally make it to bed, and heat curls low in Sid’s belly as he watches Geno undress. It’s been a long time since he felt this urge, but now it sneaks up on him, growing stronger with every breath.

“Do you—” he begins and swallows when Geno pulls his shirt over his head.

“What?”

“Do you wanna have sex?”

Geno pauses with his arms still stuck in the t-shirt in front of his chest. He looks Sid over, as if trying to detect something. “Yes, but only if you want.”

“Yeah.” Sid’s mouth is dry and he can feel his pulse at the pit of his stomach, when Geno tosses the shirt aside and leans over the bed. Sid reaches out, pushing up from the bed and into the kiss, to meet Geno’s urgent mouth. His skin is so hot against Sid’s own.

It’s easy anticipation now, relaxing back against the pillows, even though he’s normally the one in charge when he has sex. Goosebumps spread over his skin as Geno pulls away the duvet, and Sid scrambles to shove his underwear down, kicking them to the floor.

He flushes when Geno’s eyes trail down his naked body, hot and heavy, like he very much enjoys what he’s seeing. Stretching under the attention, Sid bites his lip and meets Geno’s gaze.

“Look so good,” Geno murmurs and leans down for another kiss. “What you want?”

“Anything,” Sid whispers, his voice coming out a bit hoarse.

For a while, Geno doesn’t reply. He just kisses Sid until they’re both out of breath, and Sid’s skin feels as though it’s on fire. He’s hard, eager in a way he’d forgotten what it’s like, and just as he’s about to ask for something, anything, Geno pulls back a fraction.

“You have lube?” Geno sucks a kiss under his jaw, stroking down Sid’s side with a large hand and then, gently, trailing the length of Sid’s dick with his fingertips.

Sucking in a breath, Sid can feel his dick twitch and grow even harder. He grinds up against Geno’s hand, craving more friction, and flops a hand out in the direction of the bedside table. “Yeah.”

“You like fingers?” Geno thumbs the head of his dick, making Sid whine, and catches a drop of precome. Sid arches into him when Geno rubs his nipples with the wet pad of his finger, making them pebble under his touch.

Nodding, Sid spreads his legs without thinking. It’s been so long since he had anything inside him, and he’s seen Geno’s fingers---they’ll stretch him so good.

“Okay,” Geno says and reaches over him, digging through the drawer of the bedside table, before he tosses the bottle of lube next to Sid on the bed. “I make you feel good.”

Sid doesn’t doubt that for a second and he revels under the warm touch of Geno’s hands. He goes slow, and Sid knows it’s mostly for him, but a bit for Geno as well. He’s sweating and panting, pushing up into Geno’s fist as he’s stroking Sid’s dick at a frustratingly slow pace. If he continues like this, Sid will come long before he even gets a fingertip inside him.

The muscles in his thighs tremble and Sid can feel his gut tighten, so close to coming, when Geno slows down again.

“Please,” he groans and drags a hand down his face, biting his already-sore bottom lip. “Geno.”

Geno’s kiss is soft, but the familiar sound of the lube cap makes Sid shiver in anticipation. He pulls a leg up to his chest and tries not to squirm when Geno sits back on his haunches, looking down at him.

He’s all dishevelled too, and his dick is straining against the fabric of his boxer-briefs. Sid aches to touch him, but he can be patient, he _can_.

The next moment, his train of thought is derailed as Geno’s slick fingers press up against his hole. Whining, Sid spread his legs wider, desperate for them.

“I want it,” he says when Geno does nothing but gentle circles. “Come on, get them in me.”

Geno makes a low, hungry sound and his gaze darkens. The next second, Sid has to close his eyes and grab the sheets with his free hand, as Geno pushes a finger into him. He doesn’t want to come yet, but Geno feels so good in him.

Trying to push back onto Geno’s finger, Sid sighs in frustration when Geno puts a hand on the back of his thigh, holding him down just enough to make Sid stay put. Geno goes slow again, fingering him with a patience that Sid really doesn’t have. He’s just about to beg for more, when Geno grazes his prostate and Sid jerks, his spine lighting up. _“Ah!”_

“There?” Geno asks and he sounds smug.

Sid licks his lips, nodding and holding his leg more firmly against his chest. He whines when Geno moves in close enough for Sid to feel the hard length of his dick against his thigh. He doesn’t dare touch his own dick—if he does, he might come in a second, and he doesn’t want this to end.

Geno toys with him, avoiding his prostate whenever Sid trips to close to the edge, and nailing it when Sid has somehow managed to catch his breath. He’s sobbing by the time Geno has two fingers in him, sweaty and so hard that it almost hurts.

“Geno,” he groans and the stretch from Geno’s fingers makes him arch his back. He’d forgotten how much he loves this.

“Feel good?” Geno asks and Sid can hear the smugness in his voice.

Sid wants to be annoyed, but instead his dick twitches and leaks again.

“I need more.” It comes out as a desperate, breathy moan. “Another. Make me come. Please, I know you can make me come.”

Geno kisses him then, hard and bruising. He pushes Sid’s free leg more to the side, spreading his ass cheeks and putting him on display. Sid opens his eyes to look at him, and Geno is staring down between his legs with a hungry expression on his face. His erection seems to have flagged, because Sid can’t feel it against him anymore, but Geno is so obviously into this. Into _him_.

“Like what you see?” he manages and his gut clenches when Geno looks up to meet his gaze.

“Look good stretch on my fingers,” Geno says and his voice is rough, sending a thrill down Sid’s spine. “You want one more?”

Sid pushes down against his fingers the best he can when he’s spread out like this, one leg held to his own chest and the other pushed to the side, and whimpers. It’s just two fingers. He’s had more, he _wants_ more. “Maybe I want another two.”

“Sid.” Geno lets out a groan and shakes his head. “I luck out with you.”

Geno does give him a third finger and the stretch is almost too good for Sid to handle. He aches, low in his belly, because he’s so hard and desperate, and just as he considers pushing Geno down and riding his fingers to get what he wants, Geno pushes in deeper and crooks his fingers. _Fuck_. Sid arches, moaning, digging his nails into his leg. This time Geno doesn’t tease him, but keeps fucking him with his fingers just how Sid needs it.

Sid can’t think of anything but how he’s going to come on Geno’s fingers any moment now. His muscles are tense, and his balls drawn up tight against his body.

“Oh my god,” he manages, letting go of the sheets and fumbling until he finds Geno’s free wrist. “Geno. _Oh fuck,_ I’m so close.”

“Can come for me,” Geno urges and makes his motions shorter and more precise, giving Sid no room to catch his breath. “So hot like this, want to watch you come on my fingers.”

And Sid does. His orgasm slams into him and his entire body seizes up, cramping as he comes with a low, guttural moan. It seems like it just keeps going and going, and he whimpers through the last of it, barely feeling Geno pull out and then the warm wetness of his come landing on Sid’s stomach. Sid wishes he could watch, but his eyes are too heavy to open, and he can hear nothing but the rush of his own racing pulse in his ears.

Geno collapses next to him and his heavy breathing ghosts the sweaty skin on Sid’s throat and shoulder.

“Okay?” Geno asks him and Sid manages to finally let go of his wrist.

After a couple of breaths, Sid nods and cracks his eyes open. Geno is flushed and his hair's a mess, but he looks perfect like this. “It was amazing.”

There’s a moment of hesitation before Geno gets up on his elbow, leaning over him for a gentle kiss.

“Was it okay for you?” Sid asks and his legs are still numb from coming so hard.

“So good,” Geno says and kisses him again.

“I don’t—” Sid takes a breath. “I don’t think I’ve come that hard in a long time. Maybe ever.”

Geno gives him a small smile, pulling back before he pushes Sid’s damp hair from his forehead. “Glad you like.”

Pulling him down, Sid kisses him as hard as he can. “Can we do it again in the morning?”

Geno kisses him back and laughs against his lips. The ounce of hesitation Sid sensed in him finally bleeds away. “Whenever you want.”

They’re a week into Geno’s two week stay when Sid receives a text from Nate.

**> Invite me for lunch so I can meet your guy**

He looks up at Geno, who’s reclined in a lounge chair on the patio, reading a book. He’s wearing trunks, but a hoodie over his t-shirt. Apparently permanently cold from the waist up, but fine when it’s his legs. Sid doesn’t get it, and Geno doesn’t give him any good answers when he asks, so he’s given up.

“Do you want to meet Nate?”

“Nate?” Geno asks without looking up from his book.

“MacKinnon.”

Folding the book around his thumb, Geno pushes up his sunglasses. “He live here?”

“Just a couple of houses away during summer. He came back yesterday.”

“Okay.” Geno shrugs. “He know?”

“He knows what?”

“That I’m best.”

Sid rolls his eyes. “He knows we’re, you know, yeah.”

Snorting loudly, Geno opens his book again and mutters under his breath, still loud enough to make sure that Sid can hear him: “Come on my fingers last night, but can’t say boyfriend.”

Sid’s heart takes off, but not in that terrifying way that makes him think he’s about to die, but in the same rush that he used to feel whenever he was about to step out on the ice before a game. “Okay, I’ll tell him you’re my boyfriend.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Geno pause and look up but then feigning disinterest, burying back in his book. “Okay, you tell him.”

**< Sure. You can say that he’s my boyfriend you know**

**> No one says that Sid, we’re not 12**

However, when Nate drops by for lunch Geno is the one answering the door, because Sid is checking on the chicken, and he can hear Nate say: “You’re the boyfriend! Nice to meet you man, _finally_.”

Sid is torn between punching him and saying _thank you_ , but he can only nod his greeting when Nate steps into the kitchen, as his hands are occupied with the pan.

“You look good,” Nate says and Sid, who’s known him for years now, can tell that he’s telling the truth. “What’s for lunch?”

“Chicken with quinoa and curried cauliflower.”

Nate looks over at Geno. “This is why I ate here almost every day two summers ago.”

“He good cook,” Geno agrees and opens the fridge. “What you want for drink?”

“What do you have?”

Sid watches as Geno presents the options to Nate, as though the contents of the fridge are just as familiar to him as they are to Sid. That’s something Sid didn’t think he’d have again. Not for a long time.

They’re having coffee after lunch when Nate finally finds out what Geno does for a living.

“You’re a _firefighter_?”

“I do rescue,” Geno says with a nod.

“You know, I wanted to be a firefighter, but then Sid and I made that commercial for Tim Hortons and wow, dude, I’m too afraid of heights.”

Geno sits up straighter and glances over at Sid. “You do commercial for firefighter?”

“We visited a station with coffee, basically.” Nate shrugs. “We got to climb a ladder and run up stairs with the equipment. They didn’t even put a safety rope on us.”

“We probably shouldn’t mention that,” Sid says. “I mean, to media or anything.”

“It’s on _tape_ ,” Nate protests. “All over YouTube.”

“Can I see?” Geno asks and Nate proceeds to find the clip on his phone, scooting his chair closer to Geno so that they can watch together.

It’s a strange feeling, hearing his own voice from a time where the reality that he’s in now seemed so far away. It wasn’t that long ago. At the time, Sid had been sure he had at least another decade. That wasn’t the case.

“You go all way up?” Geno asks, pulling Sid out of his head.

“Yeah.”

“Without security?” Geno looks over at Nate who nods, and then his gaze darkens in anger. “Should be fired.”

“It’s fine,” Sid hurries. “It went fine. I’m sure they didn’t think we’d actually climb all the way up.”

“Insane,” Geno mutters under his breath, but he relaxes back in his chair, and chuckles at the next clip. “Let you slide down pole when you visit my work.”

Nate chokes on his water, but Sid knows exactly where his mind went with that, so he just ignores him.

“I wouldn’t be graceful.”

“No,” Geno agrees, grinning. “Is whole point.”

Nate is already sold on Geno, Sid can tell, but Geno is easy to like. He’s confident, but warm, teasing in a way that never crosses any lines. It’s like he knows exactly what Sid is okay with him joking about. He hasn’t had that since he left his team, and he’s never had it with a partner.

A while later, when Geno leaves them for the bathroom, Nate turns to Sid.

“You’re so gone on him.”

“Fuck you,” Sid says and then adds, “Yes.”

“I like him. You should keep him around. I think you’re good for each other.”

“I hope so,” Sid says. “I feel really lucky.”

“You’re both lucky.” Nate squints at him then. “How are you doing?”

“With what?”

“The depression and the anxiety.”

“It’s up and down,” Sid confesses. “A lot better than a year ago, or even six months ago. Some days I feel like I’m almost, uh, _normal_ and others I need to force myself out of bed.”

“I wish more knew what kind of stuff you can fall into when you retire,” Nate says. “I know some guys who gamble. I know a handful who are divorced now, because it’s like they didn’t even know how being married full-time is, when you’re just _there_ all the time, seeing each other every day.”

“Are you trying to tell me I lucked out?” Sid frowns.

“No, man, but more guys should know that retiring isn’t an easy thing to do. You have an entire life you have to leave and then a new one to get used to. It’s not just the money.”

“It’s an entire identity you lose,” Sid says.

“Yeah,” Nate agrees. “And no one fucking talks about that.”

Maybe there are other guys like him out there, who have to fight their brains more or less every day, and Sid just hasn’t realized that.

That night, Sid turns over in bed, towards Geno. He’s reading again, some romance book that Sid’s mom has left behind at some point. _“They always have good ending,”_ Geno claimed when Sid asked him about it this morning. _“Who care if is not some self-obsess guy who think he deep and poetic? In these book I know they be happy and things work out. If I’m want people die and main guy realize world is bad place, I just look at reality.”_

Sid can’t really fault him for that.

“Do you want to go to Toronto this weekend?” he asks and Geno looks up from his book. He wears glasses when he reads in bed, which Sid finds a lot hotter than he’d like to admit to himself.

“Toronto?”

“It’s just a two hour flight. We could go for the weekend, and you can see the Hall of Fame, have dinner in the CN Tower, see some stuff?”

Geno hesitates. “We not have to.”

“But you’ve just been _here_. It’s not that exciting for you.”

Putting the book away, Geno takes his glasses off and turns towards Sid on the bed. “I’m have great time here with you. Not need for show me lots of things. Have time, you know. We can see next time.”

“I’d like to go,” Sid says. “I know a good hotel. I think you’d like Toronto. It’s like a much smaller New York.”

Geno kisses him softly. “You decide. We go if you want. If you not want, I’m have great time here. Can save Toronto for next time I visit.”

“I’m going to visit you first, and Toronto is really nice in June.” Sid grabs his phone. “I’ll make reservations.”

Geno smiles and kisses his forehead. “Okay, we go.”

It’s been a long time since Sid has been on a flight, and he’s not entirely sure what to expect from himself. Geno is calm next to him, though, and it doesn’t take long for Sid to realize that he can go through airport customs on auto-pilot by now. That’s a relief.

The worst part isn’t the travelling, it’s the people recognizing him. He can tell that the airport employees know who he is, but in Halifax, people are too respectful to bother him when he’s wearing his hat low. Things might not go as easy in Toronto, though.

“Okay?” Geno asks, stroking his arm.

“I didn’t think of people recognizing me.”

“Can go back home,” Geno says.

But he can’t live his entire life in his house, shrinking his world into a tiny shoe box. If he wants to have a life with Geno, he has to be able to visit New York on his own. Geno might have a couple of weeks off from work now, but Sid is the one with a cleared schedule for, well, the foreseeable future. He wants Geno in it.

“No, we’re going.” He reaches over and takes Geno’s hand, instantly relieved when Geno squeezes his fingers.

“I’m need coffee on plane,” Geno says and while Sid knows that it’s at least 99% just for distractions, he lets himself get pulled along in Geno’s coffee talk, that somehow ends up in how he cried to The Intouchables, and then it’s suddenly time to board.

Geno gets his coffee and Sid falls asleep almost immediately.

“We landing, sleepy.”

Sid blinks and slowly the sounds of the airplane reach through the fog. He’s leaning against Geno, head on his shoulder, and his neck is all stiff.

“Already?”

“You out like light.” Geno reaches down and squeezes his thigh. “Okay?”

“I’m good,” Sid says and straightens up. “I think sleep was the right decision.”

It’s quick work getting through the airport. Sometimes it’s difficult when people recognize him, but today it’s a blessing because he doesn’t have to wait in line. Apparently the staff is worried that there will be a minor chaos if people start approaching him. Sid doesn’t believe that for a second, but he’s relieved all the same.

The driver is already waiting for them, holding up a tablet with Geno’s last name.

“Is my name,” Geno points out.

“I didn’t want people crowding.” Sid flushes. “I hope that was okay.”

“Of course okay.”

The ride isn’t very long, but Sid is still anxious when they finally pull up outside the Four Seasons. He stayed here several times during away games, and they’ve always been very professional and discreet.

“Sid,” Geno says with hesitation in his voice.

“Come on.” Sid gets out of the car before Geno can continue. They can have this conversation in their suite and not where the driver can overhear everything.

Geno is quiet during their check-in and visibly uncomfortable when they’re offered to have their bags delivered upstairs.

“No need. Thank you,” Sid says and grabs his own, heading for the elevator.

The suite is in light colors, a king size bed and really nice looking couch in the lounge area. Geno is still hesitating inside the door and Sid’s chest pulls tight.

“Is it too much?” He chews his lip and then barges on. “I wanted to do something nice. Since we risk spending all our time in here, I at least wanted you to be comfortable.”

Geno’s expression softens and he pulls Sid close, kissing his forehead. “Always comfortable with you. Not have to get fancy hotel room for me.”

“It’s for both of us.” Sid presses his face against Geno’s throat—it sort of feels like he belongs there—and sighs. “I want you to have a good trip.”

“You spoil me now, maybe I’m insufferable next year.”

“Maybe I like spoiling you sometimes.”

Geno huffs out a laugh against Sid’s hair. “Next time you book trip, I’m there and we talk about hotel before.”

“Fine.”

“But thank you. This really nice and I’m probably sleep so good.”

Sid pulls him down for a kiss and the last stress from the plane bleeds away. “Thank you for coming with me.”

Pulling back, Geno cups his face and Sid is suddenly warm all over. “So happy I’m here with you. So glad I have you.”

Sid’s heart clenches and he has to kiss Geno again, and again, and again until he’s breathless. “Do you wanna nap, or should I show you around a bit before we go for dinner?”

“We relax in bed for bit? You sleep all time on plane. I’m want talk for little while.”

They end up face to face on the giant bed. The width of it really isn’t necessary, because they’re lying so close, with Sid’s leg over both of Geno’s, and Geno’s hand under his shirt, gently stroking the skin. He can barely remember what they talk about, except that he’s laughing so hard he’s almost crying a couple of times.

They don’t exactly dress up for dinner the way Sid is used to thinking of _dressing up_. They’re wearing button-ups, but with jeans, and Geno is wearing a knitted sweater over his. He looks so good that they’re late for their reservation, because Sid can’t stop kissing him.

“It move?” Geno asks as they sit down just by the windows of the CN Tower restaurant.

“Yeah, but it’s really slow.” Sid scans the menu. _Would champagne be too much?_ “It’s nice though, because you get to see all of Toronto, basically.”

“Thank you for show me.” Geno’s feet interlock with his under the table. “You know what is good?”

“I know what I like, but it’s all good food here,” Sid says with a shrug. “Do you want champagne?”

Geno smiles. “If you want we get champagne, we get champagne.”

A small part of Sid explodes in his chest and a rush of terrible fondness washes over him. It makes no sense, but he doesn’t care. He’s having a real restaurant dinner with Geno, and he’s doing okay. Life is pretty great.

They’re halfway through the main course when Sid reaches over the table for Geno’s hand. He wasn’t lying when he said he wants people to know.

“I ever say you beautiful?” Geno asks as he rubs his thumb over Sid’s knuckles.

“Thank you,” Sid says and his voice comes out hoarse.

They stumble through the door to their suite that night and Sid can’t stop giggling.

“You wake all of hotel,” Geno admonishes and pulls him in for a kiss, backing Sid up against the door.

“I don’t care,” Sid mumbles against his lips and he lets out a breathy moan when Geno’s hands slide down over his ass and squeeze. “I know a few ways we can annoy them some more.”

He ends up naked, straddling Geno’s lap on the bed, mouth swollen from kissing. He’s a little out of breath, his body humming in excitement as he looks down at Geno. He’s perfect like this, leaning back against the headboard with his dick curving up against his stomach. Sid’s mouth waters, but he isn’t sure what Geno is comfortable with yet. He’ll have anything Geno is willing to offer him.

“Want ride my fingers?” Geno asks as he trails his fingertips down between Sid’s legs, along his perineum and then presses a dry fingertip to his hole. Sid has gotten a lot of them lately, but he’s never gotten to set the pace. He loves when Geno takes him apart, but he loves this too—showing Geno just how much he loves it.

“Yeah.” Sid kisses him pressing their bodies together and gently grinding their dicks together. Geno shudders under him and Sid shivers, his dick twitching. “Can I touch you? Can I jerk you off?”

Geno hesitates visibly and Sid can feel the way his erection loses some hardness between them.

“If you’re not comfortable with that, it’s okay,” he says, trying to make his voice gentle and presses sweet, chaste kisses to Geno’s mouth.

“Maybe later,” Geno says.

“Okay.” Sid pushes back against Geno’s fingers, arching his back and spreading his legs, and Geno’s attention snaps back to him. _Good_.

He makes Geno watch as he gets himself lubed up and ready for Geno’s fingers. He lets Geno touch him anywhere but his ass and his dick, but Geno is licking and biting his nipples so good they feel raw when Sid decides he’s ready.

When he finally sinks down over Geno’s wet fingers, he moans. And fuck if the entire hotel hears how good Geno makes him feel. He falls into a slow, sinuous grind that makes Geno flush and Sid feel almost high.

“More,” he says, pausing just long enough for Geno to get another finger inside him. The stretch is perfect and Sid tries to keep his own desperation at bay, but Geno gives him whatever he asks for, watching him like he can’t get enough of Sid fucking himself on his fingers.

He almost comes when Geno gives him a fourth finger, but reaches down just in time, squeezing the base of his dick. He keeps it shallow and tries to catch his breath against Geno’s shoulder, ignoring the sweat trickling down his back and the strain in his thighs.

“Fuck, this is so good,” Sid groans and sucks sloppy kisses to Geno’s shoulder.

To his surprise, Geno reaches up and takes his hand then, curling Sid’s fingers around his hard dick. Sid’s ass clenches around Geno’s fingers, and he whines at the feel of Geno’s dick in his hand. He strokes Geno slowly, marvelling at the feel of him. He’s big, maybe bigger than anyone Sid’s ever been with before, and that makes him pick up his pace on Geno’s fingers again.

“Can you—” he begins, but has to swallows, because his mouth is so dry. “Can you crook your fingers just a bit?”

And Geno does. _Oh fuck_. Sid’s entire body lights up and he picks up his pace, chasing his release, when Geno pulls his hand away from his dick again.

Sid kisses him, using Geno’s shoulders as leverage as he tries to really put his back into it. He’s so full that he can barely breathe, but he knows Geno loves watching him, that he’s into Sid being loud and vocal. Sid can give him that.

“Fuck, that’s so good,” Sid groans and the slick, wet sounds of him pushing down onto Geno’s fingers make him flush.

“You gonna come?” Geno asks and he starts jerking Sid off.

Swearing, Sid doesn’t have a chance to reply before he does, clenching around Geno’s fingers as though his body tries to pull them in further. He’s twitching, shivering all over and trying to catch his breath against Geno’s shoulder, when Geno lets go of his dick and starts stroking himself instead.

Licking his lips, Sid shuffles backwards just enough to watch with his forehead still resting on Geno’s shoulder.

Geno is hard again and he’s going fast, as though he’s going to come any second now.

“Okay,” Geno grunts, maybe mostly to himself, and he grabs Sid’s hand again. He curls his own around Sid’s, jerking himself off with Sid’s hand for a few moments before he finally comes with a groan, and the first stripe of come hits Sid across the mouth.

“Fuck,” Sid whispers, his soft dick twitching as if it’s trying to get hard again. He sits back, licking Geno’s come off his fingers and catching what’s on his face, before swallowing that too. Geno makes a low, wrecked sound and when Sid looks up to meet his gaze, he’s watching.

“Sid,” he manages, shaking his head. Then he reaches up, catching a drop of come from Sid’s chin and holding it up as an offer. Holding his gaze, Sid opens his mouth and sucks Geno’s thumb, licking the pad to make sure he catches all of it. “You kill me.”

Sid has to move off him then, his legs starting to cramp and his bad knee a little sore. Stretching out on the bed, he smiles to himself as Geno slides down to lie next to him, warm along his side.

Sid tries to catch his breath, staring up at the ceiling before he can muster enough energy to reach out for Geno. He finds Geno’s sticky hand and squeezes his fingers, before he rolls over on his side. Geno’s eyes are half-closed and his hair is a mess, and Sid doesn’t think there’s enough room in him for everything he feels for him. “Okay?”

Opening his eyes, Geno looks at him and nods. There’s something there, though.

“It was really good,” Sid whispers, pressing in as close as he can and kissing Geno a little hard, hoping it will show that he’s telling the truth. “I kind of wish I’d met you fifteen years ago.”

“Why?” Geno asks and Sid can feel the tension in his shoulders.

“So I could go again right now.”

He can feel the sigh Geno lets out against his cheek and then how his shoulders slowly ease down from his ears.

“You’re so good,” Sid says and pulls away enough to meet Geno’s gaze. “I don’t say that to be nice.”

Geno watches him for a long moment, like maybe he’s looking for something. Then he kisses Sid again, hard and desperate.

“Okay,” he whispers and then he sucks a kiss to Sid’s shoulder and chest. He looks up with a familiar glint in his eyes that makes Sid smile before he even says anything. “I like how you say go again, like you not fall asleep before ten minute.”

“You’re an asshole. I wouldn’t fall asleep!”

However, less than ten minutes after cleaning up, Sid drifts off, pressed up against Geno’s back.

They eat breakfast in bed the next morning and have sex again. This time, Geno doesn’t seem to worry afterwards, but Sid still makes sure to let him know how good it is.

“We go to Hall of Fame?” Geno asks a while later when Sid is leaning over the sink, rinsing off the shaving cream.

“Sure.”

“You tell me if you want we go back here,” Geno says and Sid frowns at his own reflection.

“Okay?” Sid says slowly.

He doesn’t get it until they’re already halfway through the Hockey Hall of Fame and Geno is walking around, looking at everything and reading the information. The first kid who comes up to him is not an issue. It’s been a while since he interacted with a fan, but his signature is probably in his backbone by now.

However, Sid has forgotten that these things tend to have a weird domino effect, where suddenly everyone wants to talk and take a photo with him, as soon as someone broke that invisible barrier.

His media experience weirdly takes over, despite the anxiety curling tighter and tighter around his ribcage. He can’t remember what he says to the girls and boys who come up to him for an autograph and a photo, but he remembers their smiles and taking photos with them. He does remember lining up for a group photo with a bunch from the staff a moment later, and then, as if in some kind of foggy haze, he spots the restroom sign.

“Please excuse me for a moment,” he says and doesn’t wait for an answer. He locks himself in a stall, hunching over on the toilet seat and tries to get his breathing under control. In-two-three-four, hold-two-three-four, out-two-three-four-five-six-seven-eight.

“Sid?”

He blinks and the familiar safety of Geno’s voice makes him reach out and unlock the door. Geno wouldn’t bring anyone in there with him. It’s not enough space for two grown men in a bathroom stall, and to be frank, it probably wouldn’t look great in the tabloids either.

“Sorry,” Sid rasps, but Geno just shakes his head and squats down in front of him, grasping his trembling hands.

“Is okay,” Geno says and his eyes are calm when he meets Sid’s gaze. “Everything okay. We leave, walk back to hotel, get some air and then we relax in room. Maybe we watch movie on TV, order room service—I see salty caramel ice cream on menu this morning, and I’m want try. What you think, baby?”

Relief washes over him so strongly that Sid wants to cry. “Yes. Please, I need to go.”

He has no idea how Geno gets him out of there without more autographs or photos. He has a protective arm around Sid, but they’re not rushing. Maybe his presence alone is enough for people to hesitate, and they don’t stop to give anyone a chance to decide.

While Sid sort of wants to run, he knows this is the better option. This way he doesn’t have to deal with the anxiety of possible repercussions afterwards, like unwanted rumours or a sudden bad reputation.

Geno undresses them both when they’re back at the hotel and gets them in the shower. The hot water makes him tired, but not in that awful, drained way that anxiety does.

“Thank you,” he mumbles against Geno’s chest. “And I’m sorry.”

“Never have to be sorry, baby,” Geno says and holds him close. “Sorry I lose you for ten minute, or I get you out sooner.”

“This isn’t your fault,” Sid protests. “I’m the one who wanted to go, it didn’t go as planned, you got me out of there without any headlines.”

“Okay.” Geno strokes his back. “I order food and we spend evening in bed. Sound like good plan?”

“It sounds perfect.”

Sid is wrapped in a grey, fluffy robe, eating fruit and cheese from the plates spread out between them on the bed. So maybe they did need that extra space after all.

“We’re leaving for Halifax tomorrow and then you go back to New York in three days.” Sid swallows.

“Vacation over,” Geno says. “Can see if I can take more vacation soon again, okay?”

Taking a breath, Sid ignores the lump in his gut. “Or I can come see you?”

Geno looks up in surprise. “You sure?”

“I told you before that I was going to come visit you before you visited me again.”

“Only if you okay with travel alone,” Geno says. “Can’t lie and say that I’m love be away from you for several month, but I’m happy to deal with that if it’s best for you.”

“I want to come see you,” Sid says again. “How soon can I come?”

Geno leans over the plates and kisses him softly. “Whenever you want.”

“I’m serious.”

“Can come whenever you want,” Geno says again. “I think maybe easier for you if I’m more home first when you come, maybe? Have to work when you there, but maybe is better to start with me home before you alone in my place for few days when I work?”

“That sounds like a good idea.” Sid expects Geno to drop the subject, but instead he reaches behind him for his phone on the nightstand and opens the calendar app.

“I think Wednesday two week after I get home is soonest that work good. I’m off four days, work three, off three, work three, off four.”

“Would it be okay if I stayed at your place while you worked? I can get a hotel.”

“Only get hotel if maybe you want more than my place can give. Is small, so maybe not lots of fun for you.”

“I want to be there,” Sid says. “It’s your home, so that’s where I want to be.”

+    +    +

Sid knew this would get out. They weren’t trying to hide their relationship, and sooner or later, someone’s going to snap a photo and post it online somewhere. Sid just didn’t expect his parents to find out about it before he did.

“There’s a photo of you with a man,” his dad says when they’re over for lunch the Thursday after Geno has left. Sid misses him already, but he has to tell his parents now when they’ve met and things are definitely serious between them.

“What kind of photos?” Sid asks, trying to keep his tone light.

“In _Toronto_ ,” his mom adds. “You didn’t tell us you were going to Toronto.”

“It was just for the weekend.” Sid puts the spatula down on the kitchen counter. “Can I see the photos?”

His dad hands over his phone. There’s a print screen from Sid’s aunt sent to his dad in a text message—of course they wouldn’t go look for these photos on their own—and his aunt has added at least three invasive questions. She’s great, but she has no sense of privacy.

The photo is from the CN Tower taken from some distance away, but it’s easy for anyone who knows him to tell it’s him. He and Geno are leaning toward each other across the table, and even though there’s a wine bottle obscuring most of their hands, it’s quite obvious that they’re touching.

“That’s Geno.” Sid swallows and hands the phone back. “It’s serious, but he lives in New York, so I didn’t want to tell you anything before I knew myself. I was planning on telling you about him today, but apparently media got there first.”

“Is he good to you?” his mom asks, looking down at the photo again.

“Very.” Sid’s stomach warms just from thinking about it. “He’s great. I’m really happy.”

“Geno,” his dad says slowly, as if tasting the name. “When do we get to meet him?”

He expects to be bothered by the clear invasion of privacy, but he’s more worried about Geno. However, when Sid calls him a little later, Geno seems less troubled than Sid feared.

“Why they pick worst photo of me?” Geno says with a sigh. “Have better angle.”

Shaking his head, Sid can’t help but laugh. “And here I was all worried that you’d break up with me because of this.”

Geno grows serious in an instant. “I already know this will happen. I decide I want for be with you anyway.”

Letting out a breath of relief, Sid smiles. “Okay.”

“How was day today? I’m miss you already,” Geno says.

“It was good. I told my parents about you. Well, they had already figured it out because of the photo, but I figured they deserve to hear it from me as well.”

“What they say?”

“They’re mostly just bothering me about getting to meet you.”

“Next time I’m in Canada,” Geno promises. “Guys at work annoy me lots today, tell me I’m have to bring you when you visit.”

“I’d like to meet them.”

“No,” Geno says, shaking his head. “You not want, trust me. They all idiots.”

“It feels like forever until I’ll be there with you.”

“It’s be quick, promise.”

The time does go by rather fast. Geno works a lot and Sid focuses on therapy now that he’s going to be away for a while. Morgan schedules a phone appointment though, when Geno is working, and that’s a lifeline Sid hopes he won’t need, but is really grateful for.

As he sets down his packed up suitcase inside the front door, his gaze falls on Sam’s leash. He takes it off the hook and strokes the soft, worn leather. It still hurts, but why wouldn’t it? She’d been there for him during all of these years and now she’s gone. Rolling up the leash, he puts it in the box with her toys and bowls in the garage, and then goes to find the photos of her that he’d put away when it was still too overwhelming. There’s one of her when she’s sprawled on her back on the lawn, tongue lolling out of her mouth, and she looks so happy. Sid sticks it to the fridge, smiling even though his chest hurts.

It will be okay.

His dad drives him to the airport the next morning, and Sid texts Geno to let him know that he’s on his way. It’s too early for anyone to bother him, and in New York he’s more or less anonymous.

Geno is waiting for him in the baggage claim, a bit tired-looking and his hair is still wet, so he must’ve come straight from work.

“Hi,” Sid says and smiles as Geno kisses him. “How was work?”

“Busy.” Geno rubs a hand over his face. “I plan for sleep few hours before I pick you up, but I come straight from work. Sorry.”

“You should catch some sleep as soon as we get home, then.”

They grab a cab and Geno gives the driver an address in Tribeca. It’s one of those old, brick buildings with a fire escape climbing the outer wall, but for Manhattan, the area seems really calm.

“My ex have this place and I take over when we separate,” Geno explains as he unlocks the front door. “If not, I have to live far away. Now rent control save me.”

“You lived here with him?” Sid looks around the small hallway. There’s an iron side-table with a glass surface, cluttered with a phone charger, a pair of sunglasses, a small stack of opened mail, a set of keys in a bowl that are quickly joined by the ones Geno puts there now, and tangled headphones.

“No.” Geno clears his throat. “We live in suburbs, have big house, but he have small place here for work when it’s long nights in office.”

 _Geno had an entire life with someone._ Sid hasn’t ever owned something together with someone else. The houses have always been his, and everything that goes with it. Irrational jealousy curls into a prickly ball in his chest. He wants this with Geno, but had somehow assumed that it would be a first for both of them.

“Were you, uh, married?” he asks, but he isn’t sure he wants to know.

Geno hesitates, which is enough answer for Sid. “Yes. Four years.”

“Oh,” is all Sid comes up with. His back tingles and the prickly ball drops down in his stomach.

Geno turns towards him then and the worry is clear on his face. “Is problem?”

 _What am I doing?_ Sid thinks to himself. “The rational part of me says no,” he tries and Geno actually smiles slightly at that.

“What other part say?”

He hasn’t been jealous before. _Ever_. “That I wish I could have that with you. You know, for the first time.”

He takes a breath and puts down his bag inside the door.

“I know it’s not fair,” he hurries to explain. “I’m not used to being jealous? I’ve never been jealous before. I’m really confused.”

Geno’s expression softens and he cups Sid’s face. “Sid.”

“I know it’s stupid.”

“Sid,” Geno says again and his smile is blinding. “Can’t propose to me second time we meet in person.”

“Wha—” Sid croaks out. “I didn’t—what?”

Geno laughs then and kisses him, before stepping away and grabbing Sid’s bag. He disappears through the open door on the other side of the hallway. “Don’t, because I’m say yes and it’s not good. Then you have headlines, Sid.”

At first, Sid goes to follow him, but then he takes a breath and looks around. He’s quite sure Geno wanted to give him space without making a big deal about it, so instead of taking the same route as Geno, he steps through the door to the left and finds the living room.

It’s strange to see it in person, because he knows it so well from their almost-daily video calls. There’s the grey couch, the navy wool blanket Geno has fallen asleep under more than once, string shelves filled with books and knick-knacks. There are photos of people who must be Geno’s family, because he has the same eyes as the woman, and the younger man looks so much like him—probably his brother.

Sid goes back into the hallway and takes the door to the kitchen. It’s square and clean, with the dull green cabinets Sid remembers so well. The string shelves are present here too, giving the kitchen a more open feeling than if it had had upper cabinets as well.

His gaze falls on the combined fridge and freezer and the photographs there. There are some of guys he recognizes as Geno’s coworkers and a few of a young girl Sid assumes is his goddaughter. In the center are three photos that aren’t more than a few weeks old. Sid knows, because he’s in them. One is of them on their way to the CN Tower, where Geno had asked a random person passing them to take a photo, the second is of them in the hotel bed, all rumpled but so incredibly happy Sid can almost feel it through the photo. The last one is of Sid alone. He doesn’t remember Geno taking it, but he remembers the day. He’s in a lawn chair, not wearing a cap for once and his hair is a curly mess—he should get it cut, honestly—looking out over the lake, which is out of frame.

Sid takes down the photo of them in bed and smiles to himself. Geno has it on his fridge, where he can see it every day.

“You want I take down?”

Sid jumps and looks over his shoulder. Geno is leaning against the door jamb, looking exhausted.

“No.” Sid looks at the photo again, before he puts it back on the fridge. “I like that you have it.”

“You okay?” Geno asks.

“I’m sorry,” Sid says and he can feel the blush warm his face. “I don’t know why I reacted like that.”

“Have life before you,” Geno says gently. “Can still have one with you.”

“I know that.” Sid closes the distance between them, wrapping his arms around Geno’s waist and stepping in close. “I’m just a bit jealous, but it’s my own thing to deal with.”

“Is like when I see photos of you with ex girlfriends,” Geno says against his temple.

Sid cranes his neck to meet Geno’s gaze. “Really?”

“Yes.” Geno makes a face. “Is not best thing I know, but have to accept.”

Sid kisses him then, harder than he meant but it feels perfect. “I like you.”

Geno huffs out a laugh. “I’m should _hope_ so, you just propose.”

“I didn’t!”

Geno effectively stops all the other protests Sid tries to get out with kisses and the prickly ball in Sid’s stomach slowly evaporates.

“I think you should get some sleep,” Sid says when they pull apart.

“You come to bed with me?” Geno is still holding him close, as though he doesn’t want to let Sid go just yet.

“Okay.” Sid kisses him again. “Can I just grab a book or something? Even if I nap, I’ll probably wake up before you.”

“Good plan.”

Geno is out almost as soon as his head hits the pillow, but Sid can’t stop looking at him. He’s so warm, pressed up against Sid’s side, and his long limbs are everywhere. Tugging up the blankets a little higher, Sid settles in against him and breathes in the familiar smell of Geno’s skin.

The next day, Geno brings him to his work. They take the subway and Sid tries not to fidget too much. There are a lot of people crammed in a small space, and he’s just about to meet some of the most important people in Geno’s life.

The firehouse is an old brick building with bright red hangar doors. Sid has seen it multiple times in Geno’s videos, but it’s impressive up close like this. It’s as though a tiny piece of old New York has been preserved among all the skyscrapers.

Geno lets him in through a side door and Sid fiddles with the zipper of his hoodie for a moment before he follows Geno through the corridor. If there’s anything he’s good at, it’s meeting new people. He used to take care of the rookies well enough, or new players that were traded to their team.

He takes a deep breath through his nose and follows Geno through the rooms and nooks he’s seen several times before.

“They have lunch now,” Geno says. “They know you come so they be extra annoying.”

“It’ll be fine,” Sid says, mostly to himself.

Around a very familiar table sits every single one of the guys Sid has said hello to over a video call so long ago now. For a second they’re all silent, and then the room explodes in noise.

“What the fuck man,” says a guy Sid thinks is called Hags. He elbows Geno in the side with a mouthful of sandwich stuffed in his cheek. “You told us you were coming here for dinner.”

“Dinner, lunch,” Geno shrugs. “English so hard, I’m not know difference.”

Sid shakes hands with every single one of them, and poses for a few photos. Geno is pretty stern about them not posting any of those on social media, though.

“I don’t mind,” Sid says.

“Way too polite,” Geno sighs and then tugs Sid along with him. “Come, I show you.”

“Show me what?” Sid follows him into what must be their changing room. There are lockers lined up along the walls, and Geno stops in front of one. After opening it, he digs around in the bag on the floor of the locker. However, Sid’s gaze is glued to the photograph on the inside of the door. That’s him, laughing at the camera in the restaurant of the CN Tower. Sid’s heart does this funny thing where it contracts and almost breaks at the same time.

“Here,” Geno says and presses something cold into Sid’s hand. There’s a beat of silence, and then his fingers graze Sid’s cheek. “Okay?”

Sid blinks and drags his gaze away from the photograph to the item in his hand. It’s a set of keys.

“For my place, so you can go out when you want,” Geno explains.

“You have a photo of me in your locker,” is all Sid can point out.

“Yes?” Geno glances over at the photo and then back at Sid. “You not want?”

Sid pushes him back against the lockers, kissing him hard, because he doesn’t know what else to say. At first, Geno is rigid from surprise, but then he pulls Sid closer, kissing him back with such intensity that Sid has to pull away before all of Geno’s coworkers will know _exactly_ how into Geno he is.

“You want slide down pole?” Geno says.

“I thought that was a euphemism.” Sid tries to look away from Geno’s mouth, but he can’t.

“Can be,” Geno says conversationally and Sid’s gut clenches.

“Yeah?” he asks and he doesn’t want to sound too eager, so that Geno feels pressured.

“We try when we get home?” Geno kisses him again, slow but a little filthy.

“Yeah,” Sid breathes.

He does slide down the fireman’s pole before they leave though, and lands flat on his ass. After making sure Sid’s knee is okay, Geno laughs himself sick before he helps him to his feet. Sid can live with that, though.

They stand close on the subway home. Geno has a hand on Sid’s waist, his fingers constantly sneaking up under the hem of his shirt and teasing down under the waistband of his jeans. Sid’s skin is tingling under Geno’s fingertips and he can’t stop himself from stretching up for a kiss.

By the time they get home, Sid is half hard and flushed all over. Geno locks the door behind them, but Sid doesn’t want to wait. Instead he kicks off his shoes and heads for the bedroom, pulling his shirt over his head. He just really needs Geno to fuck him.

Biting his lip, he digs out the lube from the drawer in the bedside table, and tosses it on the unmade bed. Just as he steps out of his jeans and underwear, Geno comes into the room behind him.

He makes a low, appreciative noise that makes Sid shiver. “Look so good.”

Turning around, Sid can feel the heat of color spread down his neck and chest. Geno is leaning against the door jamb, his gaze trailing over Sid’s body as though he’s got all the time in the world just to _look_.

“Thank you,” Sid manages as Geno’s eyes linger on his hard dick. God, he likes...he likes this. How Geno so openly wants him. All of him.

Geno steps up to him and Sid sucks in a breath, excitement running through him, as Geno tilts his face up as if to kiss him. Instead, he just watches Sid’s face and strokes a hand down his chest, the rough pad of his thumb grazing Sid’s nipple, before slowly sliding lower, until he curls a hand around Sid’s hard dick.

A sound escapes him, a rush of noisy breath, and goosebumps spread all over his skin as his eyes fall closed.

“You like that I’m watch you,” Geno says, his voice low.

“Yeah.” Sid licks his lips, nodding.

Geno kisses him then, slow and deep, making Sid’s dick twitch in his hand. His mind seems to go dead quiet when Geno’s hands are on him, and Sid needs him right now. When Geno pulls back Sid can’t stop the sound of disappointment that slips out, and chases after him, craving more. Geno presses a kiss to his lips again and circles the pad of his thumb around the head of Sid’s dick, and down the underside, making Sid whine.

“I’m like for look at you too,” Geno says against his lips and slips his hand lower, cupping Sid’s balls in his hand, making his entire body pull tight on itself.

“Good,” Sid manages and opens his eyes. His dick is straining against his stomach, and he’s flushed all the way down his chest. There’s no way Geno can’t know how much he wants him.

“Knee okay if you have legs over my shoulder?”

Sid stretches up and kisses him, pressing in close to feel the warmth of Geno’s body against his own. “Probably. If not, I’ll just slide it down.”

He arches into Geno’s fist as he grasps Sid’s dick again, groaning and hot all over. He’s panting when Geno finally lets him go. “Get on bed.”

Lying back against the pillows, Sid watches Geno pull off his shirt and push down his jeans. He’s all long limbs and hard muscle, and his dick is straining against the fabric of his underwear. There’s a wet patch from his precome that makes Sid spread his legs before he can stop himself.

Reaching down, Sid strokes himself once, before pressing a fingertip to his hole. Geno’s gaze darkens, tracking the movement, and Sid licks his lips.

“Do you wanna watch me?”

Geno lets out a low, greedy sound and nods as he climbs onto the bed. Spreading his legs wider for him, Sid holds out his hand for the lube when Geno picks it up from the bed. But instead of giving it to Sid, he pushes Sid’s legs apart and pours some straight onto his hole and fingers.

Sid gasps, clenching around nothing, as the lube slides down between his ass cheeks.

“Good look for you,” Geno says, his voice rough. “All wet.”

“Yeah.” Sid swallows and his dick twitches, leaking into his stomach. “Just for you.”

He slides his fingers through the lube, there’s almost too much, and groans as he pushes the first in. It’s been a long time since he fingered himself, but he’s used to Geno by now, and he feels like he’s rapidly overheating.

“Good?” Geno asks and he’s watching Sid’s face.

Nodding, Sid starts slow. He already knows he loves when Geno is watching him, but this is different, when it’s not Geno’s fingers inside him. There’s a rush of something new, exciting, as Geno’s gaze drops to where Sid’s finger is stretching him. He pushes his ass back and spreads his legs as wide as  he can, his dick leaking at the idea of giving Geno a better view.

He’s already desperate for Geno to fuck him, but he goes slow anyway, playing with his rim just for Geno to watch, and skirting his prostate enough to grow loud and frustrated. The only thing that keeps him going is the wet patch on Geno’s underwear that keeps growing.

He jerks, moaning in surprise, when Geno’s fingers skirt his rim, tentatively pushing in a fingertip next to Sid’s.

“Oh fuck.”

“You want?” Geno asks.

Sid can only nod, swallowing heavily. His legs go liquid as Geno’s fingers press in alongside his own, stretching him further, making Sid’s eyes roll back and his balls draw up against his body dangerously.

Geno seems lost in what he’s doing, his gaze intent and his dick twitches visibly in his underwear. Sid needs it in him.

“Geno, _god—_ ” he whimpers, high in his throat, when Geno pushes his fingers in again, and Sid has to reach down to grab the base of his dick. “Geno, I’m ready if you are.”

Geno looks down at where his fingers are buried in Sid and bites his lip. “You want I fuck you?”

Clenching around their fingers, Sid nods. “Please.”

“Good.” Geno pushes his underwear down enough to get his dick out and cover it in lube, and Sid’s mouth goes dry. Oh fuck, he’s big. Sid has to bite his cheek not to whine just over the idea of Geno getting that in him.

“I’m—” He whimpers at the blunt pressure of Geno’s dick against his hole, and hurries to pull his legs up toward his chest. “Fuck. I’m really close. No need to go slow on me.”

“Sid,” Geno groans, almost admonishing, but he pushes in anyway, steady and confident.

With his breath lodged in his throat, Sid’s entire focus swivels to where Geno is stretching him open. His gut tightens in a dangerous way, but he can’t do anything but moan and crave every second of it.

Brow furrowed in concentration, Geno leans over him and Sid can finally let go of his legs, letting Geno’s shoulders push them back as he puts his weight on his hands. He’s still so hot and hard, and Sid meets his gaze.

“Good?” Geno asks.

“Yeah, perfect.” It comes out breathy and Sid means every word. He has to bite his lip to not say anything that might pressure him. He wants to beg Geno to fuck him harder, until he can’t think of anything but needing to come, but Geno is the important one right now. He reaches down, putting a hand on Geno’s hip and gently urging him forward.

For a second, he thinks Geno is going to ask something more, but then he groans and starts fucking Sid with slow, deep thrusts that make his spine light up and dick leak. Then, Geno adjusts himself just so, and Sid _definitely_ won’t last long.

He lets out a low, desperate moan and lets his head fall back against the bed.

“So tight,” Geno groans and his eyes are closed, and maybe he’s not even talking to Sid. “Feel so good.”

Sid clings to him, slowly falling apart as Geno keeps fucking him so good. His body is light somehow, floating, as Geno pushes him towards the brink. He could probably come just like this. Then, Geno puts more weight on his hands, letting Sid’s bad leg slide down to the crook of his elbow and pushing the other tighter to his chest, and starts fucking him harder.

“Oh god, oh _fuck_.” Sid grabs a hold of the sheets with one hand, squeezing his eyes shut, and his voice cracks on his next moan.

He can feel it building in his entire body, toes curling, legs tensing and his torso pulling tighter and tighter. He’s too loud and Geno seems lost in fucking him, groaning like Sid’s the best thing he’s ever had.

With a shout, Sid comes and his entire body shakes through it, seizing up with every wave and he’s clutching to Geno desperately.

“Don’t stop,” he manages when Geno starts to slow. “Please, I want it.”

Geno’s groan sounds wrecked as he starts chasing his own release, hard and fast, until he stutters and shakes through his own orgasm, collapsing on top of Sid.

Stroking his hair, Sid kisses his temple and holds Geno close. He trails his fingers up and down Geno’s sweaty back until his ragged breath starts to slow. “Okay?”

“Mm,” Geno says and pushes up on his elbows. The blissed out expression on his face is mixed with relief, and Sid’s heart aches. “You like?”

“It was perfect,” Sid says. “It always is with you.”

Geno kisses him and rests his forehead against Sid’s. “It’s not always going to work start to finish,” he says, tone apologetic.

“That’s okay,” Sid says and pulls his fingers through the damp curls at the nape of Geno’s neck. “As long as I can be with you, we’ll figure the rest of it out. Okay?”

This time, Geno’s kiss is desperate. “Love you.”

Sid’s heart kickstarts in his chest, thumping so hard that Geno must be able to feel it. “I love you, too.”

Geno is still asleep when Sid wakes up the next morning. At first, he doesn’t get why his body feels strange, but then it hits him: _energy_. For the first time in so long, he _wants_ to get out of bed just for the sake of doing that.

Padding out to the kitchen, Sid gets the coffee maker going and digs around Geno’s fridge for eggs so he can start on breakfast. Outside the kitchen window, the world is in motion. It’s unfamiliar to Sid, who’s used to his houses where one is in the suburbs surrounded by a huge hedge, and the other by a lake. But he likes this.

Morgan has warned him of throwing himself into new, big things as soon as he’s feeling better, as that will probably result in him draining himself and then regressing. Sid pauses with the carton of eggs in his hand. Baby steps, though, he can do that. He grabs his phone and scrolls through his contacts for someone he hasn’t been in touch with a for a long time.

Later, when Geno eats his omelet and inhales his coffee, Sid says:

“So, I said yes to the Little Penguins program this fall.”

Geno looks up at him, his face splitting into a brilliant smile.

 

* * *

 

**EPILOGUE - A YEAR LATER**

Sid straightens his tie and looks himself over in the mirror. The only background noise is Ralph, their new golden retriever puppy, chewing on his squeaky toys in the kitchen. Sid wasn’t sure he could make room for a new dog in his life, but he’s just spent twenty minutes scratching Ralph’s stomach and is now running late, because he couldn’t keep his goodbye short. It’s a good thing that he can’t go back in there now, since he wants to keep his suit fur-free. It’s been awhile since he wore a suit to work. Actually, it’s been awhile since he worked more than a few days at a time at all.

Sid looks up when Geno shows up in the doorway, leaning against the jamb. He’s dressed in sweats and an FDNY t-shirt.

“Look good,” he says.

“Thanks.” Sid pulls at his tie again.

“Nervous?”

“A bit.” Sid takes a deep breath. “It’s not as bad as last night, though.”

Geno steps closer and fixes the tie for him with gentle hands. “Good. You know you do a great job with this—it’s why they ask you. We also had fun last night.”

“Yeah.” Rubbing his jaw that’s still a bit sore, Sid’s gut clenches. “Can I do it again when I’m back home?”

Geno kisses him. “Yes. Can do every day.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here,” Sid says, laughing. He does like that his jaw is sore, though. Last night he got to blow Geno for the first time, and he’s not planning on stopping unless Geno asks him to.

With a last look in the mirror and a smack on the ass from Geno, Sid grabs his wallet from the dresser and heads for the door. Just before he leaves, he pauses. “Will you pick up the keys later?”

“Yes, and talk to movers to set date. I text what they say.”

“Great, I’ll call you when I’m on my way home.”

“Good luck today, baby.” Geno gives him a quick kiss goodbye and Sid picks up his briefcase.

When he first started watching Geno’s videos, he never thought he’d end up moving to New York, selling his house in Pittsburgh and moving into a bigger place together here. He also didn’t think he’d say yes to working for the NHL with player safety, but since Bettman retired last year, the views in the league have rapidly changed. He can’t do full time yet as he gets drained faster than most people, but he thinks he can get there before next year.

There’s a platinum ring hidden in his sock drawer that he bought last Friday and he’s already planned on asking Geno during their vacation in Italy in two weeks. While Geno stubbornly claims he said yes a year ago, Sid still doesn’t think that counts as him proposing.

This time will be the real thing, though.


End file.
